Switching Red
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: "Just when you think his plans can't get anymore idiotic. It happens." J/L-ish.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I had _so _much fun writing this piece and I really hope it shows…as this is why I've neglected my other pieces for the last few months. I never _actually _intended to write a humor fic, but it just happened and I'm so glad it did. With all of that being said, I am in the process of returning to all of my current multi-partners. (Yay!)

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**Title:** Switching Red  
**Author:** iloveplotbunnies  
**Rating:** T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.  
**Characters: **Jane/Lisbon, hints of Rigsby/Van Pelt, Cho, Hightower and a few OC's.  
**Summary:** "Just when you think his plans can't get anymore idiotic. It happens." J/L-ish.  
**Beta:** Miss_Spider  
**Artists:** Petit-J and Chizuru-Chibi (the absolutely amazing artwork that accompanies this fic can be found at Jello-Forever)  
**Disclaimer:** It's not mine.  
**Notes:** Written for The Mentalist Big Bang 2010 on Jello-Forever. Takes place AFTER 2x23, based on Lisbon's quote in the first episode of the third season (_Red Sky at Night)_.

**My various thank-you's and what-nots:**

**watchyouwalk**: Did you know that spell check constantly told me that your name was wrong? So, my first thanks to you should be: thank you for allowing me to be smarter than spell check for once in my life. The second thank you of course, deals with letting me use your name without knowing exactly what I was going to do with it. Thirdly, I thank you for becoming an awesome Red John-esque serial killer named Penguin Red, all because I said I was psychic. I seriously would have never come up with the bar name on my own if it weren't for you. I love you so much!

**Frogster**: I honestly have no idea how I would have gotten through this fic without you, my friend. You helped me past my writers' block, encouraged me to write a humor fic, and helped me know if certain lines in this story were funny or not. I should also thank you for allowing me to use your name in this story, especially considering that you had no idea if I would kill your character or not. Love you also!

**Petit-J**: You were SO much fun to work with. I told you that you're my partner-in-writing crime, and I meant that—not only did you do my lovely artwork, you also were my cheerleader, which led to many nights of just ranting, and the use of WAY too many smiles (FOX!). I can't thank you enough for becoming such an amazing friend throughout this entire process. :D

**Chizuru-chibi**: Okay, so my title skills aren't the best (and I make up random words and phrases that shouldn't even be possible, like "writer's exhaustion") but you still put up with me and my craziness. I felt bad that I hadn't gotten the story finished until the last minute, but I suppose that doesn't surprise you...especially as I seem to need that extra "poke" to get everything finished. Thank you so much for the encouragement, the smiley hugs, the laughs, and the friendship...which I treasure above everything else...and of course, I cannot forget the lovely artwork! :D

**X.X.X.**

"He's had a rough summer" ~ Teresa Lisbon; _Red Sky at Night_

**Prologue**

Vacation.

It was the one word that _no _self-respecting Senior Agent within the California Bureau of Investigation wanted to hear, especially if the word vacation and Patrick Jane happened to be in the very same sentence, for that matter.

Teresa Lisbon, Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit; had a feeling that as soon as Special Agent-in-Charge Madeline Hightower had called a meeting to discuss some _highly sensitive subject matter_, that the _highly sensitive subject matter_ would be about her very own extremely abrasive (and highly annoying) consultant, Patrick Jane—who just one week prior, had dealt with an extremely emotional traumatic experience of being saved by the serial killer, Red John; who had killed his wife and child many years ago—that the very word 'vacation' would be the first suggestion thrown up to help the man cope, and as much as she _loathed _to admit it, Hightower had a very valid point.

Patrick Jane needed to be far away from the hustle and the bustle of all of the homicides.

She was all for the idea of sending him away for at least two weeks, as he still needed time to come to the terms of what had happened between himself, Red John and Kristina Frye, before he returned to give an interview, at the instruction from Hightower, for one of the most highly coveted crime magazines in the world. That was, of course, until Hightower had calmly blinked, and had opened her mouth to give the following direction.

"Patrick can't go alone, Lisbon…"

The idea of setting Jane free in a foreign country almost made her smirk; if anything, the man would end up behind bars before the two week vacation was over, due to his highly bizarre habit of trespassing into people's homes to make cups of tea.

Actually, she thought, leaning back in her leather chair as she waited for Hightower to continue on, he'd probably get caught up in some conspiracy theory involving a goat.

"…and I can't go with him…"

Jane and Hightower. On a beach. Together; that image _did _bring the somewhat forbidden smirk to her face.

"…and I've looked over your personnel file, it tells that you haven't used up any of your vacation time….except for that time that I suspended you a few months back…"

The woman _wasn't _suggesting that she….no, that wasn't possible—she still had things to close up from their last case, and while the salary of a senior agent wasn't minimum wage, she still didn't have enough money to go waltzing around the globe to follow the CBI consultant.

"…I think that on the grounds of our offices receiving a lawsuit, and I'm sure you do realize how unpopular the CBI is after the massacre a few months ago and now, Kristina Frye's disappearance…"

If Hightower didn't get to her point soon, things were going to heat up.

"…I want you, Agent Lisbon, to take a vacation…"

Jane being sent on a vacation, far enough away from her procedural world would have been enough of a vacation for her—not only would it have been two _blissful _weeks without extra paperwork. It would have also allowed her to take her own mini breather as since Jane's kidnapping four days prior, the entire unit plus Hightower had been walking on eggshells around the man.

He wasn't fragile, he kept insisting—but his lack of sleep, and the way he had seemingly relocated to his little thinking room above the SCU bullpen was enough to prove that he _was _indeed fragile. Lisbon didn't blame him for it, but he didn't need to be wallowing in self-pity.

"…you'll be gone for at least two weeks, dress down in summer clothes and you will be going with Patrick to a mystery vacation—at which point, the both of you will return to give an interview with the magazine."

Lisbon could only stare at Hightower in surprise.

The woman wasn't _honestly _suggesting that she take a _vacation_ to babysit _Patrick Jane _of all people, was she? Was Lisbon the only person who could see how this could quite possibly blow up in all of their faces?

"Your unit will be fine without you, as Agent Cho will be appointed Agent-in-Charge for the time being—your tickets will be given to you by tomorrow afternoon, and you will leave early Sunday morning. Have a good vacation, Agent Lisbon. See you in two weeks."

Hightower didn't say anything else, and Lisbon took that as her chance to leave.

Instead of heading back to the safety of her own office, where she could draw the white blinds and take aspirin to dull the ache settling behind her eyes, she decided to step straight into the bullpen where Jane was currently pretending to sleep against his brown leather sofa, while everyone else kept their eyes (somewhat discreetly) on him. Lisbon didn't say anything at their questioning stares, but instead she rammed her knee into his couch.

"I suppose you had nothing to do with Hightower's latest idea."

Jane's response was to feign innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Lisbon…"

"Let me _refresh _your memory then." She snarled. "You. Me. Vacation." Jane smirked.

"Only if you're offering Lisbon—I don't go on vacations will all the pretty…Ouch!" Lisbon had pinched Jane. "Do you feel the need to pinch me _every time _I try and be nice?"

"Jane, I only pinched you because you felt the need to lie to me. I can tell when you lie."

"I wish I had a sixth sense like that." Jane grinned. "Oh wait, I do—and I can assure you, I wouldn't lie to you." Lisbon glanced at him.

"Your fingers are crossed under your head, aren't they?" Jane continued to grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jane moved into a sitting position to reveal his upstretched hands. "So, where are we going?" Lisbon narrowed her eyes in response. "I guess it doesn't matter, but I'd like to know if I should pack my winter three-piece suits or my summer three-piece suits." Lisbon didn't crack a smile. "Oh, so you're not humored today? I wasn't aware that today was become a grumpy boss day..." Lisbon moved her arms to rest against her chest.

"Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?" Jane managed, quite innocently.

"Shut up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Switching Red  
**Rating:** T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.  
**Disclaimer:** It's not mine.

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**Thank you **to **Frogster**, **gilmoregirl1988**, **theskydreamer**, **13 Jo**, **STVVGHPDWMfan**, **Anna**, **lysjelonken**, **Hot Summer Days**, **watchyouwalk**, **jisbon4ever**, **Kourion**, **Holz9364**, and **24Mentalistlover** for all of the reviews from the prologue!

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**1—**

_Approximately Two Weeks and Two Days Later…_

The loud ringing of a single phone within the Serious Crimes Unit bullpen, was usually enough to set the current unit of three into a frenzy, as someone always felt the need to answer the phone on or by the second ring, however, at that very moment; the current phone call wasn't coming from a landline phone, it was coming from a personal cell phone, and no one had to be a self-proclaimed psychic (or mentalist, for that matter) to know who was calling.

Agent Wayne Rigsby, for example, who had been trying not to stare at his fellow female agent, Grace Van Pelt, was completely surprised (not because of the caller) but because of the humiliating interruption from his staring via the _very _promiscuous ringtone that Jane had used to signal his own calls, which he had switched a day before leaving for his two week vacation. Rigsby's face, in turn, went from a somewhat normal color to a deep blood red in five seconds flat. Van Pelt, who had been ignoring her completely obvious coworker's stares by keeping her brown eyes focused on the computer screen clock, snickered at the ringtone before she allowed herself to meet his pained (and completely embarrassed) expression.

Agent Kimball Cho only brought his eyes up from the desk, shook his head, and glanced back down at the paperwork from their latest case.

"Who wants to answer that?"

Van Pelt threw her eyes to the Agent-in-Charge, Cho, who threw his eyes to the owner of the phone, Rigsby, who completed the cycle with a sharp glance toward the persistent phone—they were _all _thinking the same thing; the chances that if they just left the phone alone, and him not calling again, weren't going to happen, considering that if the phone _ever _did stop ringing, Jane would just steal Lisbon's phone, and _nobody _wanted to hear the ringtone that Jane had programmed as Lisbon's.

"He could be in trouble," Van Pelt pointed out, and when nobody seemed inclined to answer the phone or move, she sighed. "…and besides that, it's your phone Rigsby, so answer it!" Cho nodded in agreement, and Rigsby glared at the both of them in return, before he slowly moved to handle the sleek black mobile device, place it against his ear and hit the green talk button.

"Rigs…Boss? Is everything…alright, I'll put you on speaker." Rigsby moved the phone from his ear, placed it on his cluttered desk and hit the speaker button to allow Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon's voice to weave into the overall silence of the room. Van Pelt straightened her poise, as if Lisbon could really tell what was going on within the bullpen through the phone.

_"I need to speak with Hightower; we're in a bit of a tight spot over here." _

Everyone within the Serious Crimes Unit glanced at one another; she seemed irritated, and outraged which meant that _nobody _wanted to be the one to deliver the news that the woman-in-charge was on vacation until at _least_ Friday.

"I thought you were on vacation, boss." Van Pelt avoided the subject of Hightower for the time being, and Lisbon sighed.

_"We are_."

Everyone glanced at the phone again, the last time that anyone had heard from Jane or Lisbon had been a few days after the two had driven to the airport; a postcard had come in the mail. The postcard, which currently was sitting on Cho's desk, only had words on the back in two different scrawls.

One scrawl, which had been written in black ink, read: _I'm still alive!_

The second scrawl, which had also been written but in bright red ink, read: _For Now. _

It was obvious who had written what, especially considering that the underlying death threat wasn't something Jane could do very well.

_"…we were supposed to return tonight, but because of some unforeseen events…"_

"What did he do this time?" Cho's voice rang into the conversation.

_"Was it that obvious?" _She chuckled, dryly.

"Jane's always causing problems; what did he do now?" Rigsby asked, and Lisbon sighed again.

_"Our idiotic consultant decided to get himself arrested_."

"Arrested?" Three identical calls rang out, though it really wasn't of any surprise—Patrick Jane was many things, and legal was not one of them.

"How?" Van Pelt questioned, and Lisbon snorted.

_"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you." _

Nobody argued with her, they probably wouldn't believe her—even if she had pictures.

Van Pelt sighed, "Hightower's not here."

_"Damn." _Lisbon muttered, before her voice sounded further away. _"…you should consider yourself lucky behind bars, otherwise…"_ Lisbon was threatening Jane for the umpteenth time.

"Why do you need Hightower, boss?" Rigsby asked, as he tried to cover his snicker—which either went unnoticed by the woman, or judging from her momentary silence, was gaining a death glare.

_"Hightower has—had…Jane and I doing an interview for one of the leading crime magazines in the world." _Lisbon sighed. _"Hightower informed me of this a few days before our vacation, which is why I believe she also made me go on this vacation." _

"Which one?" Van Pelt asked.

_"I don't know." _Lisbon interrupted, irritated. _"Anyway, because he's currently sitting behind bars…" _Lisbon paused, and everyone could hear Jane's voice.

_ "Lisbon, come on…don't be so upset…"_

_ "Upset?" _She hissed, her voice sounded further away again. _"You have no idea what the definition of the word 'upset' is, do you?" _Jane grew quiet, and Lisbon continued on for her unit. _"…I'm not __**about **__to leave him alone in a foreign country." _Lisbon paused again, and once again, Jane's voice chimed in.

_"Let me talk to them!" _

_ "No."_

_ "Come on, Lisbon."_

_ "No." _

_ "I'll give you some of my food."_

_ "I don't want your prison food." _

_ "I'll give you a hug." _

_ "I don't want a hug." _

_ "I'll give you a kiss."_

_ "I __**definitely **__don't want one those, especially not from __**you**__." _She hissed, angrily.

_"I'll give you a…"_

Rigsby chuckled.

_"Jane, shut up." _Lisbon seemed aspirated. _"You've already caused enough problems." _

_ "I didn't know I'd be arrested, and if you want to go home…"_

_ "…and leave you in a foreign country? I don't think so." _Lisbon responded. _"I'm staying with you."_

_ "I'm touched, Lisbon, absolutely touched." _Jane said. _"Now, hand me the phone." _

_ "No." _Lisbon repeated, before she was back to responding to the team. _"Has our summer intern shown up yet?" _

"No, boss." Cho answered. "Sometime later today." Everyone heard Jane admit something akin to a groan, and three collective smirks spread throughout the bullpen again; Jane, for some odd reason, hated summer interns with a burning passion, and this year—even with him behind bars, wasn't going to change a thing.

_"Not another intern, Lisbon." _Jane groaned. _"Why must you torture me with the endless amount of college students who sit on my couch every summer with the excuse of "I didn't know this was __**your **__space, Mr. Jane"?" _

_ "Because, 'Mr. Jane'." _Lisbon allowed, dryly. _"You annoy me 365 days a year, so to allow someone to torture you for 90 seems befitting…" _

_"Well, I still want my phone back." _The two continued to argue, to the amusement of the Serious Crimes Unit.

"I guess this at least means that she didn't kill him," Rigsby muttered to Cho, who nodded in agreement.

"Do you think they remember that we're still on the phone with them?" Van Pelt asked, with a glance at her fellow co-workers.

"I don't know." Cho answered, and Rigsby cleared his throat to gain the attention of his bickering boss and co-worker.

_"...happened at the hotel, you're sadly…" _Lisbon paused in whatever she had been about to say to Jane to address Rigsby. "_What?_"

"We were wondering what you wanted us to do, boss." Rigsby inquired, and Lisbon cleared her throat.

_"I'll try and figure something out, in the meanwhile—Jane's wanted to talk to you all, and if I don't leave now—I might be pressed to commit a violent crime." _

_ "Don't be so melodramatic, Lisbon." _Jane teased, and it seemed, at the moment anyway, that anything that had happened four weeks ago between Jane, Red John and Kristina Frye was seemingly forgotten. It made Van Pelt silently wonder how many times Lisbon had actually pulled Jane aside during their mini-vacation to get him to stop blaming himself. _"If you were going to kill me, you would have killed me when we got off the airplane." _

Lisbon's voice seemed further away, _"I knew I should have killed you when we were stuck in that crate together." _Jane chuckled.

_"…bye, Lisbon. Bring me back some real food!" _

_ "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response…" _Jane snickered, before he addressed the Serious Crimes Unit.

"_Where's Hightower?"_ Leave it to Jane to catch onto the fact that no one had actually said _where _Hightower was.

"She's on vacation." Cho responded.

"_Good!" _Jane seemed excited by the mere aspect of Hightower not being at the CBI, which frightened Rigsby. If Jane was excited by something; it usually meant trouble was going to happen, and if trouble was going to happen, it meant somebody's job would be on the line. _"I don't want Lisbon fired if she doesn't do this interview tomorrow, and sadly, we all know that my position at the CBI is cemented…even if I did somehow manage to set the place on fire." _

"You're not planning to do that, are you?" Van Pelt sputtered in pure disbelief. "You can't be serious…!"

"_My dearest Grace, while I may not agree with the conventional doings of justice that you and your beloved CBI acts upon; I assure you…as I'm already behind bars for a totally unrelated reason, that I'm not about to become an arsonist." _Van Pelt let out the breath she had been holding, the idea of Jane as an arsonist would probably give the toughest of serial killers nightmares. _"Besides that, Lisbon made me promise her that I wouldn't try and play with fire anymore, especially after our last case with fire." _Rigsby and Cho snorted.

"It's probably for the best, Jane."

"_That's what she said." _The collective group within the bullpen glanced at each other, and Jane snickered. _"Anyway, Rigsby…I have a question for you." _

Rigsby blanched, Jane's questions never held good news afterwards—it definitely meant _someone _was going to be fired.

_"Do you own any three-piece suits?" _Rigsby furrowed his brows in confusion, had Jane come up with a new tactic to see if he and Van Pelt were still in a sexual relationship or something? Did three-piece suits now mean sex?

"No, why would…" Rigsby sputtered.

_"Ah,_" Jane responded, before he addressed another person in the bullpen. _"Grace? Do you have any dress pants, dressy collared shirts, a cross necklace and some blazers?" _Van Pelt glanced at Cho, who merely shrugged, as if to say he had no idea what Jane was up to now.

"Yes, I do…" Van Pelt stated. "Why?"

Jane chuckled, _"How would you like to be in charge of the SCU for at least a day and a half, Grace?" _

"You can't do that." Cho argued.

_"No, I obviously can't_." Jane accepted. _"However, __**you**__ can—this interview is extremely crucial to Lisbon's job…" _Cho hesitated, which Jane immediately mistook as a "yes" and he continued forth. _"Perfect! Grace can be Lisbon, and Rigsby can be me…_"

"I'm not doing this!" Van Pelt told him.

"Neither am I." Rigsby agreed. "Lisbon has no idea about this, does she?"

_"Lisbon knows all she needs to know_._" _Jane replied, darkly. _"…and, if you don't do this for me, I'll tell everyone about your 'little' secret." _

Van Pelt flushed.

Rigsby choked.

Cho glanced at the both of them, his expression stoic.

"I'd like to see proof of this so called blackmail."

_"I have it here now, with me." _The sound of paper was enough to cause Rigsby to shoot out of his chair.

"Fine! We'll do it!" Rigsby cried. "Just…don't tell Lisbon."

_"Good!" _Jane gave, sounding as if he was beaming with pure excitement, and Rigsby wondered if it were too late to find Hightower. _"Grace?" _

Van Pelt sighed, her eyes focused on Rigsby, "I'll do it."

_"Wonderful!" _Jane shouted in excitement, and the SCU (Cho included) felt as if they had just sold their souls to the devil (a more cunning, and handsome devil, that was). _"Cho?" _

"I don't exactly have a choice, now do I?" Cho questioned, dryly.

_"That's the spirit!" _Jane chirped back, and he continued on. _"Okay, so here's the plan…" _


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

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**Thank you **to **Kuhlama**, **glouton-mana**, **lilaclila**, **Frogster**, **lysjelonken**, **Anna**, **watchyouwalk**, **24Mentalistlover**, **Jisbon4ever**, **Kourion**, **theskydreamer**, and **Hot Summer Days **for all of the reviews from the last part.

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**2—**

"Just when you think his plans can't get anymore idiotic. It happens."

Cho glanced at his fellow co-workers, who both seemed to be deeply engrossed in the woodwork of their somewhat organized desks.

"What does Jane have on the both of you that could be worse than a sexual relationship?" Rigsby glanced up at him in response, as Van Pelt shook her head. "If you both are taking part in this plan, Jane has something on the both of you."

"It's not a horrible plan…" Rigsby began.

"Yes it is." Cho responded. "Jane hasn't seen your acting skills apparently."

Van Pelt snickered. "He has a point…"

"I'm not horrible!"

"Yes, you are." Van Pelt and Cho responded together, before Van Pelt continued on. "Do you remember when you played that mafia boss?" Rigsby moved his hand behind his head to rub at his neck. "You were a _grinning _mafia boss…"

"Ex-mafia boss." Rigsby interrupted. "I didn't think I was that _horrible_…" At the looks he received, he grimaced. "Come on guys, cut me some slack here…Jane told me what was happening twenty minutes before it was supposed to happen."

"Twenty minutes?" Van Pelt teased. "I thought it was more like an hour…"

"Twenty minutes, one hour…what's the difference?"

"Forty minutes, apparently." Cho answered. "And the difference of horrible acting skills versus mediocre ones." Rigsby glared at the both of his coworkers. "Other than that, you did a wonderful job."

"Yeah, _and _you didn't have to tackle a crazy gun wielding woman who hypnotized you first."

"Funny, both of you." Rigsby muttered. "I think I did a decent job of pulling off Derek…"

"…after Jane _blackmailed _our relationship." Van Pelt blurted out, to the amusement of Cho. "I acted…"

Rigsby snorted. "…you _almost _got yourself killed, and you were _trying _to kill me in the process!"

"We needed something to lure an assassin to us…"

"You couldn't use a picture of an ex-ex flame or something?" Rigsby asked. "Using my picture…?"

"You have a gun." Cho told him. "Even when you were Derek Logan, you managed to make a fool of yourself on stage—at least Van Pelt didn't run off crying, even after she had a knife pressed to her throat."

"Jane was coaching her though!"

"Do you need to call Jane to have him coach you through on this latest one?" Van Pelt teased again.

"No, I'm sure it'll be easy to be a total ass."

Cho smirked, and Van Pelt shook her head.

"…do you think you'll need Jane to coach you through this one?" Rigsby pulled his lips into a smirk, as he surveyed the slightly glowering Van Pelt. "After all, it only seems that you can _only_ pull off undercover stunts when somebody is trying to kill you." Van Pelt launched the notepad sitting by her computer mouse at Rigsby, who moved out of the way before it could even hit him. "H…"

"I'm only practicing my throwing skills."

He narrowed his eyes, and Cho interrupted. "Once the both of you are done flirting," Both blushed, looking away. "Go do what you need to do." Van Pelt nodded, as did Rigsby.

"Call us if…"

"I will." Cho replied. "Now go."

Both of them nodded, and stood from their respective spots to leave the bullpen. Cho shook his head, before he glanced down at his book.

Jane's plans were idiotic, but they provided more entertainment than any book could or would; that was for sure.

**X.X.X**

"This is never going to work," Rigsby muttered under his breath, as he stood in one of the _smallest _dressing rooms at the local shopping mall. Cho had allowed him and Van Pelt off earlier than usual for lunch, considering that the things they _both _needed to pull this stunt off to not only save Lisbon's career, but to protect themselves from the blackmail going on. "Jane's an idiot, if he thinks this'll…hey! Watch where you poke that thing!"

"If you'd stand still, sir." One of the overly cheerful clerks told him, a huge grin spread across his face, as he continued to work his magic on fitting the three-piece suit needed for the stunt, within the dressing room. "You'd find that I wouldn't poke you nearly as much."

Rigsby pulled a face, "you shouldn't be poking around in the…_ouch!_" Rigsby, who towered over the clerk, shot him a withering glare. The clerk returned the glare with an all-too innocent smile.

"Now…"

"Ouch!"

"You need to stand still, sir."

"You shouldn't even _have _a license to use that thing!"

"I reassure you sir; I'm the best of the best."

"No, what you are is a _pure _sadist."

The clerk seemed to be humored by this. "That's what my ex-wife said, sir." Rigsby narrowed his eyes in response, and opened his mouth to respond when the clerk decided to reinforce his message of quiet with another pin.

"We're finished, sir!" The clerk confirmed, after Rigsby had shot him another glare. "You'll just need to come back in an hour or so, and I'll have everything you need ready."

Rigsby nodded, his eyes narrowed again. "Thank you."

"Oh, it was my absolute _pleasure _sir." The clerk was obviously enjoying this, and before Rigsby could do anything he most certainly would regret—he ran from the store to find Van Pelt, who had a sea of large, small and medium sized bags around her, on the dark bench outside the large men's store. She raised her eyebrow upon his arrival.

"Remind me to shoot Jane?" Rigsby threatened. "I don't care if Lisbon has first dibs or not, I'm…"

"I doubt you'll need to be reminded." Van Pelt answered, humorously. "What happened to you in there?"

"Out of _all _the clerks in _that _store, I ended up with the one who could pass as Jane's twin." Van Pelt masked her laugh into a cough. "It's not funny…"

"I never said it was," Van Pelt argued. "Now, how long do we need to wait before everything is ready?"

"An hour…" He paused, before he glanced down at her. "Do you _actually _think this'll work?"

"That depends," Van Pelt responded, as they watched people pass by. "You should have just let him give the blackmail to her, if you had…we wouldn't be getting ready to…you know what."

"I don't think so." Rigsby informed, with a slight nod to show he understood. "The last time I gave into Jane's blackmail, it was so he wouldn't tell Lisbon about us…and look how that turned out…we caught the killer, and we both still came clean."

The awkward silence between the both of them was interrupted by Rigsby's cellphone.

"If that's Jane…" Van Pelt muttered, darkly.

"It's Cho." Rigsby said, quickly answering it—if it had been Jane, the phone would have held another repeat of the promiscuous ringtone (he hadn't been able to change it yet) and as humorous as it would have been to hear that in the mall; Van Pelt would have strangled Jane for scarring the little children around. "Rigsby…Okay, we'll be there as soon as possible." Rigsby pulled the phone away from his ear, and closed it. Van Pelt eyed him as he placed his cellphone back in his pocket. "Our intern has arrived."

Van Pelt groaned, "They'll be the first person we're going to have to fool—what does this say about the honesty within the CBI?"

"Hey," Rigsby interrupted. "We work with Patrick Jane; we lost our honesty a _long _time ago." Van Pelt silently mused that for a moment or two, her hands moving the bags from various stories into the floor for Rigsby to sit next to her.

He did so, as she begrudgingly agreed with his statement.

"I _guess _it could be worse."

"Knowing Jane, it could have been." Rigsby agreed. "Take Christmas of last year for example…" Van Pelt turned to him slowly, horror in her expression. "I know we decided that we weren't _ever _going to mention that again, especially not in public…but I _plan _on mentioning it to him when he gets back."

"You're horrible."

"I know." Rigsby smirked.

"You're channeling your inner-Jane." Van Pelt teased, and he cringed.

"Don't ever say that," Rigsby muttered. "That thought _alone_, is enough to cause nightmares for the rest of my life."

Van Pelt laughed in mock-sympathy. "How can I ever make it up to you?"

"How about we go check out the food court?" Rigsby asked, sheepishly and Van Pelt rolled her eyes.

"I guess it couldn't hurt; we could always try out that new place…" Van Pelt bent down to collect her bags by her legs, and Rigsby hid his grimace.

Some things would never change about their relationship, and even though, they had ended their sexual relationship nearly three months ago—Van Pelt's want for him to eat healthier, would probably always remain the same. He only hoped that after their little tryst into the vast unknown of Jane's plan that the both of them would realize that there was no need for the awkwardness between them.

"Coming?" Van Pelt interrupted his silent musing, and he nodded. "We'll come back after lunch, pick up what you need and then we'll change…"

It was going to be a _long _day and a half.

**X.X.X**

"This is the kitchenette and the couch there…" Cho gestured slightly at the decrepit leather couch, where Jane did most of his "world-domination" plotting. "…is off limits, unless you would like to find yourself dealing with Patrick Jane." The intern, Virginia Tylor, who stood beside him, only nodded; apparently, nobody had informed her about Jane. "How much did Hightower tell you about this department over the phone?"

Virginia, with her brown eyes and shoulder length blonde hair glanced at Cho, "Special Agent Hightower said the SCU closes the most cases, but she didn't say anything else…she was rather quiet on telling me anything about the members of the unit." Hightower didn't want to scare anymore interns away from the SCU. Over the years—less and less summer interns applied for the position in the SCU, mainly due to the horror stories of a tea-loving, couch-sitting, boss-annoying consultant, who would often do everything he could to make them quit.

In the first few years of the program, nobody could quite understand how nearly all of summer interns for the SCU were handing in resignation papers within the first two weeks of the program. Minelli, who had asked each and every intern their reasoning for quitting, received one of two reasons.

A family emergency had come up…or, they just couldn't do it anymore.

"Agent Cho?" Virginia continued, and he glanced at her. "I wondered how many people make up the SCU."

"Five."

"Is that normal?"

"Yes."

"Oh." She bit her lip, before she glanced around as the both of them stood in the empty hallway. "I expected more of a hustle and bustle around here…"

"It's lunchtime." She didn't reply, and Cho lead her back into the bullpen to where he pointed toward Jane's unoccupied desk. "Fill out the following forms." She nodded, and sat down in the chair. Cho glanced at her for a moment or so, before he started toward his own desk to finish the last minute paperwork from the last case.

It was then, as the both of them indulged in the blissful silence of the lunch hour, nearly forty five minutes later that they were disturbed by two people arguing outside in the hallway.

_"…if you pull something like that again…"_

Cho almost sighed, and Virginia glanced at him; she looked somewhat alarmed, and Cho didn't blame her.

"Wh…"

"That," Cho gestured toward the hallway, and repeated what Jane had said earlier. "Is the SCU consultant, Patrick Jane and Senior Agent, Teresa Lisbon." Virginia glanced back at him.

"Are they always like this?"

"You get used to it."

Well, there really wasn't any point of sugarcoating it—Jane and Lisbon were known best throughout the entire CBI for their sexual tension, and because Jane had blackmailed the already sexually charged enough Rigsby and Van Pelt into playing the dynamic duo for their interview...things were going to get _much _more interesting.

_"…it wasn't my fault, technically_…"

Cho wondered if it was too late to take a vacation for the next day or so.

"What did he do?"

Before he could even respond to her, Van Pelt rushed into the bullpen—Rigsby hot on her trail and Cho only declined his head at the odd spectacle before him.

"Cho?" Van Pelt questioned, and Cho glanced at her—it was really quite impressive, from his perspective that after years of being around Jane and Lisbon that both Van Pelt (and Rigsby, to some extent) could really pull off the act of pretending to be both Jane and Lisbon. The only thing, in Cho's opinion that could give either of them away (besides the sudden growth spurt between Van Pelt and Lisbon and the fact that Rigsby was a _little _to big to be Jane, not to mention that Jane was blonde and Rigsby was dark headed) was the fact that Rigsby seemed completely uncomfortable in his three-piece suit getup—as his broad shoulders seemed confined, and Rigsby, every so often would tug on the bottom of his light grey vest.

Van Pelt, on the other hand, with her arms crossed against her chest and a ferocious glare aimed toward Rigsby, emitted the Teresa Lisbon factor somewhat flawlessly—the woman had obviously taken Jane's assignment seriously and tried to copy every bit of Senior Agent Lisbon—down to the almost identical cross hanging off her neck. If it weren't for the fact that it was almost the end of June, Cho personally would have written this whole deal off as a somewhat twisted Halloween costume idea—although, why _anyone _would want to dress as the senior agent and consultant was beyond him.

"Is this our intern?" Cho nodded, and Van Pelt glanced at the young woman. "What's your name?"

"Virginia Tylor, ma'am."

"Do you know who I am?" Virginia hesitated for a moment or so, and Cho glanced at Rigsby and Van Pelt, before she awkwardly nodded.

"You're Senior Agent Lisbon, and he's…" Rigsby stepped forward slightly.

"Consultant for the CBI, Patrick Jane." Rigsby gave a somewhat dazzling smile in greeting and Virginia weakly smiled back.

"I suppose Cho handed you the paperwork?" Virginia nodded from 'Jane's' desk. "Gave you the tour…?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Virginia responded. "I'm almost finished." Van Pelt nodded.

"Good." Van Pelt gave, before she turned to Cho. "I need to speak to you in my office, you too Jane." Cho removed himself from his desk and followed Rigsby into Lisbon's office, once inside, Van Pelt glanced at Cho. "How are we doing so far?"

"Not bad." Cho responded, before he turned to Rigsby. "You look awkward." Van Pelt snickered in response.

"Hey!" Rigsby defended, lamely. "How often do I wear three-piece suits to work?"

"Never." Cho answered.

"Exactly!" Rigsby agreed. "So, give me a break!"

"I told him that in the car; apparently his _friend _at the mall made the outfit a size too small." Cho glanced at Rigsby, who was muttering something about sadists as he tugged at the vest again. "If only Jane could see us…" Rigsby pulled out his phone and handed it to Cho, who stared at it blankly.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Take our picture," Rigsby suggested. "We can send it to Jane, so he won't be asking us for proof anytime soon." Cho sighed.

"Fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.

**Disclaimer: **Nah. It still isn't mine.

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**Thank you **to **Bella Paige**, **Frogster**, **Jisbon4ever**, **watchyouwalk**, **theskydreamer**, **Hot Summer Days, **and **24Mentalistlover **for the reviews from chapter two. (Also, thank you to all the alerts and favorites, you guys really are all amazing!)

* * *

**3—**

Jane's phone vibrated against the hardwood table, as he and Lisbon remained across from one another at the small little café, which was tastefully decorated and nearly a block away from their lovely hotel. He had his hand placed over hers on top of the table, while his other hand held the still vibrating phone. Lisbon glanced at him as she sipped at her black coffee, her eyes sparkling in idle curiosity and he only shook his head.

"It's…" Jane glanced down at his phone to find **Rigsby **flashing across the screen of his phone. "Rigsby." Lisbon took a deep breath, and Jane eyed her.

"You can't answer that." Lisbon declared. "He'll know you're not in jail."

"Meh, he'll just think you managed to threaten the guard to let me out on house arrest…" Lisbon narrowed her eyes, and he chuckled. "It's just a text, Teres…"

"Don't call me that."

"We've been sleeping together for the past week; I think I have every right to call you by your first name." The middle-aged couple at the table over shot them both a disgusted glare, to which Jane grinned in their direction and merely waved his fingers in greeting.

"For the _last _time, we are _not_ sleeping together." Her outburst gathered odd stares, to which she only glanced down at her coffee as Jane grinned in her direction. "We're _not_."

"I didn't know you were so passionate about the subject." Lisbon shot him a glare.

"I don't need you telling everybody about our sleeping arrangements." Lisbon retorted. "I'd rather this remain between you and I." Jane looked offended.

"I'm offended, Lisbon."

"Yes, well that makes the both of us then." Jane glanced down at his phone, before he glanced up at the blue sky and then back down at Lisbon, who seemed perfectly content to ignore him by focusing on the inside of her coffee cup.

Honestly, they weren't _really _sleeping together.

Per se…

It was more like doubling up in one bed, even though they had two perfectly good beds to sleep in.

Jane stroked Lisbon's hand mindlessly, to which she kicked him under the table and leveled him with another glare. "Hey!"

"Don't do that." He pouted, seriously—what good was it to _try _and _offer _some small amount of comfort to the woman if she was going to kick him under the table. "I'm serious, Jane—do _not_ make me feel the need to hurt you." The both fell into an uncomfortable silence, to which Jane glanced back down at his phone and Lisbon sipped at her lukewarm coffee.

"Maybe we should get something stronger?" Jane suggested, and Lisbon raised her eyebrow. "I enjoy tea, but every once in a while—wine…scotch…you know…"

"I'm not drinking with you; not after the last time."

Jane feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about Lisbon…"

"Sure you don't, remember last year at the annual Christmas party?" Lisbon snorted. "You ended up deciding that _every time _somebody rung a bell that you would take a shot of anything near…"

"…not one of my better ideas, I assure you." He muttered. "I was naïve…"

"Jane, what difference does a year make?"

"…lonely, oh so very lonely…"

"…you started singing Christmas carols. We even had to bring out the earplugs."

"…looking for whatever comfort the warmth of the alcohol could provide me…"

"You jumped off a table, you _tried _to _crowd surf._"

"You caught me didn't you?" Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I define that as crowd surfing."

"…I also made a comment about how we needed to get you into the gym? Do you remember that?" Jane shrugged.

"Was that before or after I threw up on your shoes?" Jane teased, and Lisbon kicked him again. "Ouch woman!"

"Don't patronize me, Jane. I'm already _this close_…" She held up her spare hand to show him how many mere inches separated her thumb and pointer finger from one another "…to…" Jane stood from his seat, as he pulled his hand from Lisbon's and stood behind her. "…ki…" Jane lowered his lips to her ear, his hot breath causing a shiver of excitement to sweep down her spine and Jane smirked.

"It's a matter of opinion." Jane explained with a soft whisper, as he trailed his fingers down her shoulder and her arm before he lingered on her thigh. Lisbon sucked in a deep breath; surprise in her features and Jane's blue eyes twinkled. "I'd say that we're sleeping together, but as I've said—it's all a matter of opinion, Teresa." Jane pressed a kiss to her cheek, before he pulled away from her and returned to his seat to calmly sip at his tea; his hand pressed against hers again, as her face burned with a blush that crept up her neck and her cheeks. "Color looks good on you, Teresa."

She flushed, and Jane hummed quietly as the couple next to them outright gawked.

"…"

"What?" Jane asked, as he placed his light blue tea cup down to swipe at his face. "Is there something on my face?"

"…" The couple blinked.

"Let me see," Jane peered at the young couple. "The both of you are clearly newlyweds, and you're expecting a child…" Jane pointed to the young woman who had dark shoulder length hair and blue eyes, who seemed to be shocked into silence and then Jane peered at the young man. "…you're the domineering type who forced her into having a child and getting married with you…the reason why the both of you are staring at us are because you…" Jane pointed back to the young woman again, who seemed absolutely terrified now. "…are having thoughts of someone your husband is forcing you away from and you…" Jane jerked his thumb in the direction of the young man, who seemed to be on the edge of his breaking point. "…you...Lisbon, arrest this man now—he's a complete psychopath." Lisbon glanced at Jane, before she glanced at the man who seemed to be trying (and failing) to contain his anger with Jane.

"How _dare _you!" The man spat with rage, as he shot from his chair and jabbed his finger into Jane's chest. "I am a _very _well respected member of this town, and I _will _have you arrested." Jane rolled his eyes.

"Oh please," Jane answered, self-assured. "If I had money for _every time _somebody said something like that to me, my lovely lady-friend and I would have enough money to buy a private island…"

"Jane!" Lisbon hissed, and Jane waved her away.

"You better listen to your woman, you son of a…" The young man curled his hand into a fist, and Jane smirked which had Lisbon groaning.

"Jane, if you get punched…"

"Lisbon," Jane turned slightly to view her. "He's not going to punch me because while he's a psychopath, he's a _submissive _psychopath…"

"How is that even possible?" Lisbon muttered. "Most psychopaths are dominant."

He probably couldn't have been anymore wrong, as the young man raised his fist and yanked his elbow back before propelling it forward to punch Jane in the face with his fist. Jane yelped and clenched his nose, which once again (just like Lisbon's punch a few months ago) remained unaffected and Lisbon shook her head.

"Arrest him!" Jane cried, as he held his nose with his pointer finger and his thumb. "He punched me…"

"I can't do anything, Jane." Lisbon muttered. "I tried to warn you, but no; you continue to think that I have jurisdiction _everywhere _supposedly." Jane frowned, and glanced down at the place where her handcuffs usually remained and Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Just because I have handcuffs does not mean I'm about to use them on everybody who punches you, especially when you deserve it half of the time."

"Just half?" The young man seethed, and his young wife moved to place her hand on his upper arm to which he pushed her away and she grabbed the end of their table to stay on her feet. "Stay out of this."

"Look sir," Lisbon intervened, before their fight could escalade even more—somehow, none of the waiters had noticed their altercation yet. "I apologize for my….his behavior; he's never been one for keeping his thoughts to himself." Jane opened his mouth, to which Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "…or keeping his mouth shut for that matter." The young man nodded, and turned to glance at his wife before he sent Jane another glare. "Come on, Jane." Lisbon grabbed his sleeve and yanked him out of the café. "We're going back to the hotel…"

"Wait!" Jane interrupted. "I forgot my cellphone."

Lisbon sighed, she wasn't stupid. "Fine."

She released the sleeve of his white dress shirt, and he ran back to the brilliantly colored café to grab something from their table before he sprinted out of the establishment, the young man scowling behind him while the young woman seemed to be on the verge of tears from a distance—the waiters having _now _come out to separate the bickering couple.

"What did you do _now_?" Lisbon hissed, and Jane merely shrugged.

"I only told them I was sorry."

She didn't believe him one bit. "Sure, and you're actually going to behave while we find whoever did _this_…" Jane held his hand in her grasp again. "…to us." Jane snickered.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Lisbon; I'm still a man of fine principle." Jane replied, to which Lisbon sighed in aspiration.

"Check your message already." Lisbon growled. "I'm not babysitting you all the way to the damn hotel room…" Lisbon pulled her hand from his and he chuckled, to which she glanced at him. "What?" Jane moved to pull two cardkeys from his dark pants pocket. "You stole that from me while you were…"

"Of course," Jane agreed, brightly. "You didn't think I was seducing you just to get you to allow me to say your name did you? After all I _did _frisk our dear friend and inmate at the county prison, Dr. Wagner for his cardkey to get back into his office—if I wanted you to let me say your name, all I'd have to do is this." Jane closed the small distance between the both of them on the empty village street; the pads of his thumbs pressed against the softness of her face as he moved closer and closer to her until he bent down and captured her lips in a kiss.

She responded with a hard slap to the face.

"Woman!" Jane cried, as he jumped away from her and rubbed his cheek with his hand. "I might just have a broken nose and you smack me!" Lisbon moved closer to him, before she stood on her tiptoes to meet Jane's ear, where her own hot breath caressed his ear, and he smirked.

"If you kiss me again, without my permission…" She hissed into his ear. "I will make sure that I hit you where it _hurts_." Jane gulped. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Jane muttered. She stepped back from him to begin her trek to the hotel, which only made Jane smirk because she didn't even have the cardkeys to get into their room until she turned around toward him, and with a slight devilish grin pressed across her lips, she held up two cardkeys.

"Two can play this game, Jane."

He beamed; while scary, Lisbon was one of the best because she had _learned _from the best of the best; him.

"Come on, your ego is showing and I'd like to find our hypnotist friend before he skips island and the both of us are resolved to touching each other forever."

"…and that would be a bad thing?" She fixed him with a solid glare, and he chuckled. "Never mind, please lead on my beautiful lady." She turned on her heel, and started toward their hotel as Jane hovered behind, his blue-green eyes focused on the plastic screen of his phone and the picture Rigsby had sent with the subject: _Proof_.

He'd respond later, after-all, at the current moment he had bigger fish to fry.

(Mainly Lisbon and their current situation)

He could only imagine telling Hightower _why _neither of them had been able to give the interview or come back from vacation on time, for that matter.

"...it had all started a week into our vacation, both Lisbon and I had our fun and well…we decided a little…_entertainment _would be the best way to start our second week off—however, neither of us had expected _this _to happen…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.

**Disclaimer: **Nope, not mine.

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**Thank you **to **Frogster**, **lilaclila**, **Jisbon4ever**, **Anna**, **lysjelonken**, **Bella Paige**, **watchyouwalk**, **Hot Summer Days**, **Yen88**, and **theskydreamer **for the amazing reviews, and of course, thank you to everyone who has added this story to their alerts/favorites!

* * *

**4—**

If his phone _ever _rang again at two in the morning, Rigsby would kill Jane. It didn't even matter whether Jane was behind the phone call or not, but calling him at two in the morning after one _hell _of an exhausting day (which he had been hoping was only a bad dream, not a real life situation) was the only thing it took for Rigsby to swear that the next time Jane stepped into the bullpen; the annoying consultant would find himself hanging outside the window. Though Jane was _obviously _an insomniac, insomnia did _not_ mean that he needed to bring everyone else into his little insomniac tendencies, especially believing that his whole _scheme _was more important than the eight hours of sleep needed to function each and every day.

Besides that, Rigsby begrudgingly admitted to himself, Jane had awoken him in the middle of the most amazing dream involving Van Pelt.

So, yes.

Rigsby had _every _right to kill the megalomaniac insomniac who had decided to wake him up from his dreaming—especially as when he had fallen back to sleep nearly thirty minutes later, he could no longer dream of Van Pelt, but instead, he had spent the rest of the time until his alarm had gone off at five in the morning dreaming of throwing Jane out one of the CBI windows, while Van Pelt rambled on about how much of a _hero _he was. Lisbon had even decided to give him a raise for throwing the annoying man out the window, but then the dream, which had started out _so _amazingly had turned into a _complete _and utter nightmare.

Jane had come back to haunt him in ghost form; with that irritating smile, and three-piece suit of his and _he _was the only one who could see the damned man. By the end of the dream, the CBI had somehow burnt down due to ghost-Jane's insane pyromaniac skills and Lisbon stood over him, ready to dismember him for _letting _it happen—as if Rigsby could control ghost-Jane, when he couldn't even control _live_-Jane.

He almost swore up and down to _never _answer the phone when and if Jane called, but as many times as Jane ended up in homicidal situations, Rigsby had a feeling that if he _didn't _answer the phone and Jane was ever truly in trouble, the CBI wouldn't even have a chance to fire him before Hightower and Lisbon got a hold of him, and both of those women together could raise hell, especially over the unified topic of Patrick Jane. It was one of the _many _reasons that the members of the Serious Crimes Unit would never leave Jane's phone calls unanswered, even if they gave _thoughts _about it. Lisbon, though short statured, could tackle men half her size and if one _wanted _to keep their job, they certainly didn't want to anger Hightower.

_"It's all about the principle," _Jane had whispered at 2:14 AM, as Rigsby had stared up at his dark ceiling. _"If you want me to remain quiet about you-know-what and you-know-who, then you need to create…" _

"Yes, I know. A memory palace." Rigsby had snapped. Jane only chuckled in response, which had irritated the already exhausted enough Rigsby.

_"Actually, I was just going to say "illusion"—but, if you __want__ to create that memory palace—be my guest, though it won't help you much…" _

"Jane, I did not answer my phone at two in the morning to listen to you lecture me about the finer parts of memory palaces."

_"But Rigsby, I haven't even gotten to the good parts…"_

"I _need _sleep." The frustration had been evident in his voice, and Jane must have caught onto that as Jane quickly got to his point of the entire conversation: the _plan_. "…I'm not throwing our intern into a closet, Jane."

_"It's not like you would just throw her, in fact—I offered the option of chloroform and a dark ski mask, but you rejected that…"_

"Of course I did! What kind of agent of the CBI would I be if I just threw women into closets?"

_"It's not like I'm asking you to throw Lisbon or Hightower into closets, as something tells me that both of them carry around tasers." _Jane had paused to mutter something lowly under his breath about Lisbon and that "insufferable taser of hers", which had made Rigsby wonder _just _how many times had the boss either threatened to use her taser on the consultant over the past two weeks. _"Besides that," _Jane had continued. _"The intern has probably sat on __my__ couch and you know that I don't tolerate that, Rigsby." _Rigsby had then asked Jane how in the world was he able to talk on _his _cellphone, especially with the man currently playing jailbird. _"They think I'm calling my lawyer." _

"Lawyer? What the hell did you do anyway that would require the use of a lawyer?"

_"If I told you, I'd have to kill you…as would Lisbon." _

Somehow, Rigsby had doubted that the man was kidding.

In his posthaste to get ready for work; he realized that he was about fifteen minutes later than normal and that if he wanted to get to work _before _Van Pelt, he would have to kick his routine into high gear which would require him to miss breakfast. Jane, for some odd reason was _always _first within the office and if Rigsby didn't know any better, he could swear that the man not only actually _slept _on that couch of his, but _spent _the night within the lonely bullpen of the CBI. As he was leaving his apartment, he ran into his neighbor who just raised her fair blonde eyebrow at the sight of him in his _lovely _three-piece suit.

"Uh…our boss decided to raise morale by holding opposite day." The neighbor merely nodded at the explanation, and went back to whatever she was doing (decorating, it seemed like) as he raced down the steps and hopped into his vehicle, the earpiece in his ear as he started the car, to call Van Pelt.

"Good morning," He greeted, after she had answered. "Jane called me at two in the morning."

_"What did he want?" _

"Oh you know; the usual. He just wanted to know how we were holding up, if the three-piece suit attracted more women than usual, and if I could throw the intern into a closet…"

_ "Did…wait, he what?" _

"In between the telling me about his memory palace, for the umpteenth time and the "joke" that he was going to kill me if I found out why he needed a lawyer—he decided to tell me that it was a good idea to throw our intern into the janitor's closet on the third floor, using chloroform and a black ski mask."

_"What did you tell him?" _

"I said, "of course, let me get right on that after I rob the first national bank"." Van Pelt chuckled. "I hung up on him…"

_"…and he didn't call back?" _

"Surprisingly no, but I have a feeling that we'll know why he didn't later today."

_"Do you think that Virginia will be apart of his master plan?" _

"I have a feeling that she will be, especially as Jane wants people to believe that we're him and Lisbon—which means we'll be required to save the day…besides that, we still have that interview, which will tie into all of this somehow."

_"Oh joy," _the sarcasm was evidence in her voice, and it made Rigsby grin. _"I'm just a little confused though…"_

"About what?"

_"The CBI is __full__ of agents, and officers that work with Jane and Lisbon day in and day out…right?" _

"Yes…"

_"Obviously, anybody within hearing range during our little "fight" would have said something about us not being who we said we were…Lisbon doesn't have red hair, and Jane well…he's not you." _

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment, or write it off as an insult." Rigsby muttered.

_"It's a compliment, trust me. So why didn't anybody say anything?" _It was a good question, and as Van Pelt had valiantly pointed out—neither of them, except for the clothing and the mannerisms, looked like Lisbon or Jane.

"I'll take your word for it; Jane whether we like it or not has _connections_, as horrifying as it is to know that, the man really does get around within the justice system."

_"You think he managed to silence the entire CBI?" _

"It's possible, but enough about Jane. How are you?" The conversation continued until Rigsby had pulled in front of the CBI, for the guard to let him in and he rolled down his window. "Give me a second, Grace." The guard merely glanced at the ID card, before he glanced inside the car at the three-piece suit. Rigsby opened his mouth to respond, when the guard moved aside to let him through as he scratched his head in bewilderment. "I think Jane owes the guard an explanation when he gets back from jail—the guard didn't say anything yesterday about my attire, but I attribute that to the fact that I wasn't the one driving yesterday. You were, and you were dressed semi-normal."

_"I wasn't wearing heels, if that's what you mean by semi-normal." _

"Grace, I'm going to go ahead and get off the phone with you—I guess I'll see you at around eight?" He pulled into a parking spot, and put the car into park.

_"You will. I'm leaving now." _

Rigsby glanced at his radio clock, as he pulled the earpiece out of his ear to see the green neon light telling him it was exactly 7:45 AM. He tugged on the three-piece suit dark gray vest before he shook his head and placed his hand on the key, turning the car off.

Today was going to be one of _those _days; he just knew it especially as he headed toward the doors of the elevator to find a white sign posted.

**Out of Order **_again_

**Have a nice day! **

**The Custodial Staff, CBI. **

Rigsby merely shook his head in humor, as somebody had handwritten the "again" onto the paper as this was probably the sixth time in the past week that the elevator had been broken, and he took off toward the steps. The plus side about the steps, and the _very _confined space happened to be the fact that people could rarely stop and hold conversations on the concrete steps, which meant the explanations about his attire (if there were any) could be ignored in favor of getting to work on time. Cho merely glanced up from his desk as Rigsby entered the bullpen, and moved to rest on Jane's couch.

"Do you know when we're supposed to get our interviewers?" Rigsby asked.

"I have no idea." Cho replied, dryly.

"I hope they come soon…"

"Why? Nervous?"

"Somewhat, _you-know-who _asked me to kidnap the intern last night." Rigsby swore he heard Cho choke on something in the background, but he passed the notion off as something crazy, especially when Cho replied calmly back to him.

"Well, we all know where he's going to spend the next six weeks…"

"…church?" Rigsby replied, helpfully.

"Close enough."

"I figured that he would use his _connections _to gain us an easy-to-solve case, to _show _the interviewers that we're who we say we are." Rigsby answered. "I just never thought he would use these connections to do anything highly criminal." Cho raised his eyebrow slightly, although Rigsby couldn't see it.

"We are still talking about Jane right?"

Rigsby continued on as if he hadn't heard Cho's previous comment, "The man may tip toe the line between legal and illegal, but he'd never do anything outright illegal."

"Kidnapping is illegal—punishable by up to life in prison."

Rigsby wisely remained silent after that, and up until Van Pelt strolled into the bullpen.

"Morning," she greeted Rigsby, who merely glanced at her before he glanced up at the ceiling to find that there really _was _an Elvis-shaped stain on the ceiling.

"You know, he wasn't crazy when he said this stain was shaped just like Elvis." Van Pelt raised her eyebrow at him. "I wonder how you would get a stain like that…"

"I really doubt the boss would appreciate you staining up the ceiling just to find out how one creates a stain that looks like a legend." Van Pelt hissed, and Rigsby chuckled.

"There's not much of a ceiling here, is there?"

Van Pelt rolled her eyes, but continued on anyway. "Have either of you seen Virginia?"

"No." Cho answered, at the same time, Rigsby responded, "Nope."

"I wonder where she is…"

Rigsby had a _bad _feeling about exactly where the intern would be.

**X.X.X. **

Meanwhile…

"Are you _sure _he gave you the right address? You've been driving around for about ten minutes now, and you haven't seen _anything_?"

Virginia shrugged; though her college roommate, Amie, couldn't see it, as the both of them were currently discussing the strange call that she had received at around five that morning.

"I don't know, A." Virginia aspirated. "The person said that my boss would meet me at the address I showed you this morning, but she hasn't shown up yet…"

"It's probably a good thing, from what you told me last night." Amie muttered. "But then again, it seems like you only have to worry about that consultant…what's his name again? Jane something?"

"Patrick Jane, Amie."

"He sounds like a complete psychopath."

"Most people in the workplace are," Virginia argued. "Look at your boss at that coffee place last year? I'm surprised he wasn't hoarding bodies or something like that…"

"…and then there's that female boss of yours, Lipton?"

"No, Amie." Virginia sighed. "Lipton is a kind of tea."

"Oh yeah! What kind of a boss fights with their own _employees_? I don't even fight with my own employees over at the daycare, it breeds bad business."

"It also breeds bullies," Virginia pointed out, with a laugh.

"…do you seriously have to intern at the CBI? You could always come for a summer internship at the daycare, I'm sure the kids would love to meet you!"

"I'm sure the kids would love to eat my soul."

"Stop being so melodramatic or whatever you call it, Vir. Seriously. Listening to you is like listening to one of my mother's soap operas."

"If I was _like _one of your mother's soap operas, I would have to find a bunch of people who were all related to me in someway, have sex with a bunch of them, have a few of them die via elevator shaft, suicide, airplane crash or hostage situation and then have one or two of them come back to life _just_ to show me the errors of my way…so no, Amie. I don't think I'm nearly _that _interesting."

"You just told me that little kids would eat your soul, how is that not soap operaish?" Amie questioned, and Virginia could hear the water running in the background as she swiftly managed to maneuver her vehicle into a parking space on the side of the empty street, before she stalled the engine.

"…because soap opera kids are not demons…? Anyway, I need to let you go—I'm going to call somebody and see if they can help me out here…"

"Alright then; good luck and text me if you need _anything_, got it?"

"Sure, bye!"

"Bye!"

Virginia brought her brown eyes to focus on the stretch of road in front of her; everything stretched out in front of her was like the beginning of a _bad _horror movie—the forest, the lack of people, the lack of _sun_, and the fact that she currently remained on a dead end street. She quickly brought her eyes down to her cell phone, but didn't have the chance to make a call as someone (or something, she quickly reasoned) tapped against her window.

It always made her laugh when the girls in those slasher movies opened a door, because honestly, she felt _smarter _than them that if she had ever been in those types of situations, she would have _never _opened the door for the possible killer to kill her. After all, one of those quizzes on a popular social networking website had told her that if she was _ever _in a horror movie, she'd be the one survivor because everyone else thought answering a crazed murderer was a bright idea. Slowly, she placed her hand on the automatic button that would roll down the window of her car by merely an inch just to see who (or what) was tapping against her window.

"Hello?" She called into the silence; the only response became crickets and extremely harsh breathing, which she quickly identified as her own. "I'm warning you, I carry pepper spray and I _won't _be afraid to use it!" She leaned over to grab at her purse, which was in the passenger seat to grab at her pepper spray when suddenly; she paused at the deep voice which came through her inched window.

"Hello Virginia."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself.

**Disclaimer: **I don't think so.

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**Thank you **to **Biana Delacroix**, **Jisbon4ever**, **Hot Summer Days**, **Bella Paige**, **Frogster**, **xxxBekaForEvaxxx**, **watchyouwalk**, and **24Mentalistlover** for the absolutely amazing reviews!

* * *

**5—**

"It's almost noon, those reporters should be here soon and we _still _haven't seen hide or tail of our intern." Van Pelt told Rigsby, from her own desk instead of Lisbon's as he continued to rest on the couch, turned slightly on his side so he was able to see Van Pelt. Though, they all had done _some _type of work that morning—the work was quickly thinning out, as Cho had the last file, and eventually, everything would be dead. Dead in some jobs was a good thing, dead in the line of work as a CBI agent never meant good news. If it weren't for the fact that Rigsby didn't believe in magic, he would have sworn up and down that a curse had been placed on the CBI to where the idea of "downtime" meant something worse was going to happen. "Should we be worried about that?"

Rigsby blinked. "I've checked all the closets, multiple times—I've found a few _humongous _black widows, a teenage couple with hormonal issues but no interns, especially not _our _intern."

"Great, I lost the intern."

Cho interrupted from his desk, "No, you didn't."

"Yeah," Rigsby continued on. "_Lisbon _did."

"Not helping," Van Pelt shot toward him. "I have an extremely weird feeling that you're behind this, Jane."

"Well, _I'm _not."

"Nobody is around at the moment. You can drop the act."

"What act?" Both asked together, Van Pelt stared at him as Rigsby continued to stare at Van Pelt.

Cho opened his mouth to respond to them, but the phone ringing forced him to answer with a simple, "never mind," before he leaned over and picked the phone off his desk to answer it. While Cho conversed with whoever remained on the second line, Van Pelt and Rigsby continued to stare at each other without saying anything. Finally, Cho hung the phone on its receiver before he blinked and glanced at Rigsby and Van Pelt. "The reporters are here." Van Pelt stood from her desk and raced toward Lisbon's office to act the role of boss, as Rigsby merely tilted his head to stare at Cho.

"Do you think we can do this?"

Cho shrugged, "My opinion won't change things."

"Oh, so you _do _have an opinion about all of this…?" Cho blinked.

"Yes I do; I believe when Lisbon finds about all of this, she will put you and Van Pelt on desk duty for the next six months or so."

"Who said Lisbon would ever have to find out?" Rigsby questioned, and Cho shook his head. "We'll be finished with this _way _before she's back to work."

"Hightower will eventually find out; pictures are being taken."

"So?" Cho only glanced at him, as if to say _what do you think will happen after that_? Rigsby wanted to respond that as long as Hightower _couldn't _get her hands on the article, nobody would be blamed for anything and nobody would find out what would happen after that. "Besides that, _what if _Lisbon already knows all about this?"

"If he told her, he's either sick, or dying." Cho responded and Rigsby moved to stare at the Elvis-shaped stain once more—his blue eyes completely focused upon that spot until he felt two pairs of eyes rest on him. He shifted, very uncomfortable with the eyes, and glanced toward wherever the eyes were coming from, to find two young professional looking women, who apparently were glancing at him and whispering from the doorway of the bullpen.

He obviously wasn't psychic, as there were no such things and he would never be as observational as Jane, but Rigsby knew by just merely glancing at these two women, that they were the reporters.

"Excuse me?" Rigsby glanced at the woman who had spoken; shoulder length brunette hair framed her youthful looking face as her mirthful hazel eyes remained on Rigsby, she wore black slacks, a green t-shirt and a black blazer over top. It was obvious that while she was a reporter, the young woman didn't want to look _too _professional. "Is this the Serious Crimes Unit?"

"It depends on who's asking." Rigsby responded from his position on the couch. "If you're telemarketers…"

"Yes." Cho interrupted, as Rigsby pulled himself into a sitting postion on the couch to glance at Cho. The second young woman merely turned toward her companion; curly, red hair dressed to her shoulders, also framing her youthful face, while her bright green eyes took in all of the sights that the Serious Crimes Unit had to offer. Her outfit, he noticed, as she spoke in an animated whisper with her companion, wasn't unlike her fellow reporter, but instead of the green t-shirt, she wore one of a light blue under her own open black blazer.

"I'm sorry," the second speaker finally turned back to face the both of them. "We followed the directions that the guard at the front desk gave us, but we managed to take a left on the second floor instead of a right..." She shook her head, before she continued on. "Anyway, we're here to see…"

Rigsby interrupted her from his spot on the couch. "Let me guess, you both are the reporters here to interview the delightful Agent Lisbon and her wonderful consultant, Patrick Jane?" The first woman brought her eyes to glance at Rigsby, as he slowly stood from Jane's couch to glance down at both women who still remained in the doorway, blocking the view of the kitchenette.

"I would guess that you're psychic, but I know there's no such thing—which means you _must _be the consultant Patrick Jane."

"You forgot wonderful."

"No, I didn't." She responded back, before she turned to Cho. "You must be…Agent Lisbon then?"

"Oh Lisbon is going to be so overjoyed that she's had a sex change." Cho glanced at him, as did the two reporters.

"What do you mean by sex change?"

"You know when a woman becomes a man or vice vers…"

"I do believe they know what a sex change is, Jane." Cho interrupted, before he could continue on. "I'm not Agent Lisbon. Agent Lisbon is in her office at the moment." The reporters continued forward into the bullpen to head toward Lisbon's office, as Cho stepped closer to Rigsby. "A sex change?"

"I didn't know what else to say." Rigsby whispered, helplessly. "It was either that or something about body snatchers, and something tells me that Jane would never use the words "body snatchers" in a sentence."

"...and you thought a sex change would be the best way to act more Jane-like?" Cho asked.

"Yes?" Rigsby offered, before he sighed. "This is much harder than I thought…"

Cho blinked. "I could have told you that."

"I think I should come down with something." Rigsby declared. "I could come down with the flu, and sneak out the bathroom window…or you could just punch me..."

"Are you asking me to knock you unconscious?"

"No…I'm merely asking you to reconsider the options."

Cho paused to glance at him. "What options?"

"Illness, for one." Rigsby explained and Cho still glanced at him. "Didn't you ever fake sick when you were a kid?"

"No."

"Okay then…Death, for two."

"Death isn't a valid excuse." Cho retorted.

"Lastly, you could just punch me…"

"If I have to suffer through this, then so do you."

"Oh come on," Rigsby pleaded. "You know you want to hit me for accepting this plan in the first place."

"Yes." Cho agreed. "But I'll wait until after the interview." Cho stepped away, and headed back toward his desk which made Rigsby wonder if the man was being serious about hitting him after the interview or not. Before he had a chance to question the man on his threat, Van Pelt had stepped from Lisbon's office with the two reporters trailing behind her. The brunette reporter, who stood at the same height as her companion, stepped forward to glance between Rigsby and Van Pelt.

"How does this work?" Van Pelt asked, and the brunette focused her attention on her.

"Well, Agent Lisbon—we usually start off with a group interview, and then an individual interview before going to the take pictures of all of you in your natural settings." The brunette reporter informed. "Before we do that though, I suppose that introducing ourselves wouldn't be a bad idea." Van Pelt nodded in agreement, and the brunette continued on. "I'm senior reporter, Shelli Katz." Shelli glanced to her fellow redheaded reporter, who stepped slightly forward to introduce herself as well.

"I'm Autumn Scott, junior reporter and in charge of principle photography."

"Do you both write these titles on business cards?" Rigsby asked, and Autumn glanced at him.

"Are you trying to be funny? Because if you are, you should really stick to your day job." Van Pelt snickered lightly, and Rigsby glared at her. "Anyway, I think we'll…" Autumn was interrupted by the office phone ringing, to which Cho answered. Van Pelt and Rigsby glanced at him, as he continued to talk to whoever was on the phone; he wrote something down on the notepad near his phone. Finally, he placed the phone on its receiver and glanced up at Van Pelt and Rigsby.

"Who was it?" Van Pelt asked.

"Here." Cho stood from his desk to hand her the note he had taken, and she glanced down at it with a frown before she moved to stare at both of the reporters.

"We've got a case." Rigsby glanced at her in question; were they _actually _supposed to have a case? She mutely handed the notepad to him to which he barely skimmed to learn Virginia had been kidnapped in an abandoned and run down part of town.

"I guess we could reschedule the interview…" Shelli commented, and Van Pelt shook her head.

"I'm sure that Agent Hightower would want us to take you along, you _did _say you wanted to take pictures of us in our natural settings…" Autumn nodded excitedly, and Shelli nodded. "Alright, we're going to go ahead and leave now…I'll…"

"I'm driving." Rigsby already held the keys up and Van Pelt narrowed her eyes.

"You're not driving."

"I've got the keys, if you want to drive us home—you can, but I'm driving us there." Rigsby raced from the bullpen, leaving the four to glance after him in a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Is he always like that?" Autumn asked, in pure amusement and Van Pelt nodded.

"Unfortunately yes."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T for mild humor, sexual humor and Jane just being himself. XD

**Disclaimer: **I obviously don't own TM.

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**Thank you** to **Frogster**, **watchyouwalk**, **Jisbon4ever**, **Yen88**, **24Mentalistlover**, **Hot Summer Days **and **Bella Paige88** for the amazing reviews! (…and of course, thank you to all the alerters as well!)

Anyway, _this _is my favorite chapter—not only is it my favorite, it's the longest. When I wrote this fic, I knew I couldn't just sum up everything J/L had gone into during the epilogue, so I ultimately decided to write a _whole _chapter detailing everything up until the phone call in chapter one.

I hope you all enjoy!

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**6—**

Hightower's promise of a relaxing vacation had been ruined within the first hour, because not only did the idea of a "relaxing" vacation not involve an image of Jane _anywhere _besides being locked away in some dungeon, ten feet under ground for Lisbon, but also because Jane had to be _escorted _to their boarding areaby airport security for fooling around with the airport metal detectors.

"Stop that! You're going to get us banned from the airport!" Lisbon hissed, after Jane had cheekily smiled and waved goodbye to the airport security guards, who seemed to be on the very verge of deciding to come back and arrest him for _disturbing the peace…_or the sanity of people everywhere, anyway. He had eventually stopped, and as the two stood in line, much later to board their flight, bickering about nothing in particular, Lisbon had vaguely heard someone say that she and Jane happened to make a "cute married couple".

Lisbon continued to be in a somewhat rotten mood although out their sixteen hour flight, but the bad mood could have also been attributed to the fact that she had to sit next to Jane on the flight—not only had he weaseled his way into the window seat, but he had also left her sitting between two evils; Jane, himself, who apparently was somewhat fearful of heights (she had only found _that _out after he had glanced out the window as they were nearly 35,000 feet in the air, and promptly threw up in the little airsickness bag she had forced into his hands at the last minute) and a redheaded teenager, who thought he had to impress the _entire _airplane with his amazing singing skills for almost the entire plane trip (up until one of the passengers nearby, had clearly had enough of his singing and had decided to take care of it by finding a piece of duck tape and taping the teen's mouth shut.) Jane had nearly managed to laugh, but his sickness apparently made him not only well behaved, but docile.

"If I knew that you would be this well behaved, I'd take you on flights more often."

He couldn't even find it in his power to glare at her in response, instead he chose to groan and close his eyes, while his head rested against the closed window. Her somewhat rotten mood faded away with the three more times that he managed to need the airsickness bag, and before either of them knew it, they had arrived at their mysterious location, where Lisbon quickly found that _only _her luggage had somehow been lost and Jane was back to his usual antics of annoying others, hypnotizing strangers and making her wish that she had been allowed to carry her weapon.

Oh yes, this was just going to be a lovely vacation.

**X.X.X**

"Hightower really went out of her way for this one," Jane had said, as he held his gaze out their extremely large hotel window, the beach and Dark Blue Ocean shimmering down below. "She must have been feeling pretty awful about harassing you for the past four months." Lisbon rolled her eyes as she remained behind him, his suitcase and their carry-ons had created a somewhat dangerous warpath in the middle of their large room, which was decorated in subtle blues and greens.

"Jane, this vacation is for _you_." She answered. "I'm only here to make sure you don't get arrested." Jane had grinned in response, as she slowly turned to face her.

"We're here for two weeks off from paperwork—and we're not co-workers at the moment…" Jane ducked the pillow aimed his way. "Bingo. We should pay bingo." He ducked another pillow, which once more had hit the window. "Honestly Lisbon, we can't stay inside the _whole _time."

"Jane, you're _also _here because Hightower thought it'd be easier to send you on a vacation than to send you to the department shrink."

"So, this is _my _vacation?"

"I thought we had gone over this…yes, Jane…this is _your _vacation."

"…and you're my department shrink?" Lisbon raised her eyebrow in his direction, as he moved to lay on the bed by the window. "Dr. Lisbon, I had a _horrible _childhood and an even more _nightmarish _adulthood, you see—when I was a child, my parents tried to feed me to a set of alligators and _then _an anaconda…."

"I hope you're kidding."

"Am I, Dr. Lisbon?" Jane had asked innocently, with a wide smile. "…and _then_, in my adult life, I had this CBI agent use me for bait in a drug-smuggling llama investigation…"

"Okay, now I just know you're just being a smartass."

Jane moved to a sitting position on the bed he had claimed as his own, before he glanced at her.

"Llamas do make good drug-smuggling animals, Lisbon—in fact, before I came to the Serious Crimes Unit, I worked for another unit, who just happened to have a drug lead which involved a petting zoo." Jane explained. "The owners of the petting zoo thought it was a good idea to smuggle the drugs into the petting zoo and then sell them on the black market. I went undercover as a llama farmer." Lisbon raised her eyebrow in surprise, as Jane fell silent.

"What happened?"

"Oh," he replied with a shrug. "The owners of the petting zoo finally caught onto the fact that I _wasn't _actually a llama farmer, after it tried to eat me…to this day, I still believe that Tessie was an evil llama, bent on world destruction."

Lisbon blinked. "They named the llama, Tessie?"

"Out of the entire story, you only catch on to the fact that they named the llama Tessie?" Jane asked her, mollified. "I think we need to focus on the fact that I almost _died_ here."

"Did they catch the owners of the petting zoo?"

"Yeah, after about two weeks of stakeouts and many days of not taking showers…but that's the point here, Lisbon!" Jane cried. "I…"

"…almost died, yes I know…I believe the entire third floor of the hotel knows."

"You don't need to be so patronizing, Lisbon." Jane pouted, and Lisbon responded with a roll of her eyes. "Now, what should we do for our first night? We could hit the downstairs casino? We could…"

"The _last _time we hit a casino, you were banned." Lisbon interrupted. "Do you not remember that?"

"So, I guess that's a no?" Jane asked, after several minutes of silence.

"Yes Jane," Lisbon groaned. "That's a no."

"Darn."

Eventually, after Jane had practically gotten on his knees to beg—she _did _concede to allow the both of them head down to the casino, which was located in the hotel…after a _very _strict set of rules, in which Jane tried to break no less than ten times, until Lisbon had finally threated to find a local petting zoo and so went the first week of their somewhat relaxing vacation with Jane always mentioning to the locals and the fellow tourists that they were _married_, had three kids at home (the three kids, Jane told her later, were none other than Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho. Somehow, Lisbon secretly thought they'd take that as more of an insult,) and the only reason they were on vacation because they had finally won the lottery.

"How much did you win?" One of the female tourists had asked, after she had been regaled by the tale of winning the lottery—her attention focused between Jane and Lisbon, who had chosen to grab lunch at the local café instead of the sea-themed bar within the hotel, which had been given the bizarre name of "The Red Penguin".

"Enough to have a vacation, and get him a vasectomy _all_ at the same time." The tourist gasped in sympathy, as Lisbon continued to sip at her iced tea and pick at her cold turkey sandwich, trying to hide the smile at the uncomfortable expression that had splashed across Jane's face as the tourist went on and on about her own husband, who had required the same procedure after having nine children with her.

'I _will _get you back for this, Lisbon' Jane mouthed over the tourist's head, as she held him in a giant hug.

**X.X.X.**

"I hope you aren't planning to drink the bar dry." Lisbon lectured, as on the last Sunday of their vacation, she had found Jane sitting at the hotel bar—nursing a collection of empty shot glasses, while the bartender glanced on in apathy. "I doubt running a tab in the name of the CBI is what Hightower meant when she said relax."

"Nah. I'm not drinking, actually I'm performing a magic trick for our bartender—apparently he's bored." Lisbon eyed him, before she eyed the bartender, who merely shrugged in response.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Lisbon asked. "I've found you _in a bar_, on a Sunday night—a collection of shot glasses around you and you're telling me that you aren't drunk?"

"Believe me Lisbon, I _tried _to get drunk—but that's very hard to do when you've got a giant jellyfish staring you down." Jane pointed his finger at the giant mural of a pink and purple jellyfish painted on the water-colored wall to the side of the bar covered in gaudy pink and yellow starfish, to which Lisbon tilted her head to stare at it in surprise. "I know…I almost feel bad for the bartender."

"So, why do you have all the shot glasses then?"

"I stole them off Mel."

"Do I need to arrest you?"

"Oh, Agent Lisbon—are you pulling out your handcuffs for me. I didn't think we'd get _that _far in our relationship until at _least _next mon…" Lisbon narrowed her eyes, before she cuffed him in the back of the head as she joined him at the gaudy looking bar. "Ouch! Do you seriously have to hit me _every time _I make some perverse comment involving you and your handcuffs?"

"I wouldn't be me, if I didn't." Lisbon answered, humorlessly. "Anyway, why did you call me here?"

"What do you mean, Lisbon? I never called you."

"Yes, you did—in fact, you left a voicemail telling me that some giant Jellyfish was ea…" Jane had started to grin, and Lisbon turned away from him with her arms crossed against her chest. "I really hate you right now."

Jane snickered, "I told you I would get you back for that vasectomy comment on Friday."

"So, you thought getting me drunk under a giant jellyfish is payback?" Lisbon asked, as she shook her head and turned back toward him. "I think you've lost your touch. You're getting old." Jane frowned.

"Forty-one isn't old!"

"You're over the hill."

"I don't even look forty-one." He continued, as he used his hands to argue with her (which probably looked strange to the other non-drunk patrons in the bar, who thought it was the eighth unwritten sin to get drunk under a jellyfish or even in a bar called _The Red Penguin_).

"No, you don't." Lisbon agreed.

"I look about thirty years old."

"Actually," Lisbon interrupted. "I would say you look more like you're sixty-one…"

"_What_?" Jane gasped.

"Why did you call me here?"

"Lisbon!" Jane sputtered, as he ignored her question. "I can't believe you would say that I look like I'm sixty-one." He placed his hand to his face. "Do I look like a man of sixty-one?" Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Lisbon!"

"Jane, you just can't expect me to sit here and soothe your bruised ego! I've been sworn not to lie, remember?"

"…and to think, I was _actually _going to let you miss the entertainment tonight…"

"Is this one of those world domination things?" Lisbon asked, and Jane beamed.

"Well, rule number fifty-eight of being an Evil Overlord says 'if it becomes necessary to escape, I will never stop to pose dramatically and toss off a one-liner.'" Jane offered, helpfully to which Lisbon shook her head.

"What's the entertainment for tonight?"

"Oh, I thought you would _never _ask…"

"Now, I'm just fearful for my life." Lisbon muttered.

"…you see, the hotel likes to provide entertainment every Sunday and this Sunday just happens to be a hypnotist!" Jane answered, brightly.

"Why does it feel like you had something to do with this?"

"Because you have trust issues…?"

"_Jane_…!"

"Lisbon, I swear that I had nothing to do with this—in fact, I had just found out before I called you about the giant jellyfish!" Lisbon blinked, and the lights inside _The Red Penguin _began to flicker, before they completely dimmed. "Did I mention that the show was starting at 7?" She narrowed her eyes. "Now you know!"

"You did this on purpose!"

"I did not!"

"You did too! You _knew _that if I found you in the bar, that I would come investigate and you would distract me from leaving!"

"You give me too much credit, Lisbon."

The two had continued to argue quietly, as the hypnotist had stepped onto the makeshift stage in the large sized sea-theme bar and introduced himself as Samuel Norse, one of the best hypnotists in the world—he quickly brought somebody on the stage and had hypnotized them to act like a small child. The echoing round of applause after he let the middle-aged woman sit down in her seat didn't interrupt from the intense arguing and Samuel, instead of calling out someone near him merely glanced in the direction of Jane and Lisbon.

"For my next volunteers, I want the couple in the back." Everyone had turned to stare at Jane and Lisbon, who had stopped bickering for the present moment to glance at the hypnotist. Lisbon stood from her spot to address him.

"I don't think so." Samuel frowned, and the crowd booed Lisbon. "Thank you, but no thank you."

"Come on, Lisbon." Jane pleaded. "It might actually be fun…"

"Oh, don't you even _dare _tell me about fun…especially when we're only on this vacation because of you!" Lisbon hissed. "I'm not getting up…hey!" Jane had grabbed her wrist, pulling her through the crowd of people within the bar to watch Samuel before he stood on the stage with the both of them.

"First, I'd like some names." Samuel informed the both of them, and Jane beamed before he floundered over to the microphone that Sam held, as he dragged Lisbon with him.

"My name is Patrick Jane, and my reluctant partner here is Teresa Lisbon."

"How long have the both of you been dating?"

"We haven't!" Lisbon blurted out, and Samuel chuckled.

"I'm sure."

"We're just friends!" Lisbon continued, before she paused. "I suppose friends are a bit _too _strong of a term to describe what we are."

"She's my parole officer." Jane responded. "I was just released from prison, and I can't leave the states without her…so I brought her with me."

"Is that legal?" Samuel asked, before he paused. "Wait, you're a convicted ex-felon—so I'm going to assume that you don't care about the legalities of anything." Jane shrugged. "…should we move onto the hypnotism?"

Jane smirked, "Oh, that's why I was arrested in the first place—hypnotism on stray cats to rob tri-state area banks." Samuel seemed to believe Jane's incredible story about hypnotizing stray cats, and Lisbon snorted in disbelief.

"I think I'm going to just continue with the hypnotism…" Samuel pointed to the chairs behind him, and Jane pulled Lisbon with him as the both of them sat down in the black chairs provided. "So, if this goes as expected—neither of you should feel any pain." Samuel turned toward the audience, and started to address the audience. "I'm not going to tell them what I'm going to do to them, and I will only tell you all _after _they're under a light trance."

**X.X.X.**

"Well, _that _was a fun ten minutes of my life I can't remember." Lisbon told Jane, as the both of them made their way back to the third floor hotel room. "Do you even know what he had us do?" Jane paused to lick at his lips.

"Hmmm…my lips taste almost cinnamon-y…"

"You better be kidding."

"You know, I think we better test my theory…I thought I saw a cactus back there." Jane pointed over his shoulder, and Lisbon eyed him as she let the both of them into their room.

"Why would the hotel have a cactus anyway? The last time I checked cacti…" Lisbon paused, before she continued. "Is it cacti or cactuses?"

"Does it matter?" Jane asked, as he shut the door behind her. "I mean, you're not exactly talking about mice or a moose."

"I suppose not…" Lisbon muttered, before she moved to rest on her own bed. "…anyway, the last time I checked a cactus didn't exactly belong in the ocean."

"I do believe that's the hotel's way of extending greetings to the land dwellers." Jane explained, as he moved toward his own bed. "Although, I don't remember that particular cactus being there yesterday…"

Lisbon glanced over at him, as he sat down on his bed. "…only you could make me have a five minute conversation about a cactus."

"It's one of my _many _gifts, Lisbon." Jane answered.

"Is this the same _gift _that makes you believe that you're a gift to people everywhere?" Lisbon teased, and Jane ignored her.

"I'm also gifted in the knowledge of the different types of cheese."

"How is _that _useful?" Lisbon mused out loud, and Jane grinned.

"One of these days, we'll have a case about cheese—and you'll need my expert opinion."

Lisbon frowned. "The day we need an expert opinion from _you_, is the day I'll call you by your first name."

"Really?" Jane inquired, with a bright smile.

"No." Jane pouted. "You know you look ridiculous like that, right?"

"If that day does come, does that mean I get to call you by _your_ first name?"

"No." Lisbon told him.

"I'll let you call me Patrick, Teresa."

"I'm your boss; you will either address me as such or you will call me Lisbon."

"Okay, as such." Lisbon growled. "You know, I'm just playing around with you…Teresa."

"Stop that!"

"Teressssa."

"I mean it."

"Terreeeeeeeesa."

"Stop. It."

"Teeeeeeeeeeeeresa."

"Jane!" Lisbon launched her pillow at him, which sailed by his head and hit the turtle shaped lamp—which ultimately, knocked the lamp onto the floor where it shattered into many different pieces. _"Jane_!"

"You broke the lamp, Lisbon!" Jane gasped. "I can't believe that a law official like yourself would trash a hotel room—I didn't think you were such a badass rock star."

"This is _your _fault!" Lisbon huffed. "If you hadn't of annoyed me…"

"…it's not my fault that you're easily annoyed, Lisbon…" Jane interrupted. "Besides, it's not _that _bad—I doubt they'll even notice…"

"_Jane_! Once _again_, you've made my life pure hell!" Lisbon spat. "Do you not realize that Hightower is going to kill one of us for this? Do you not realize that even though this is practically your fault that Hightower is going to come after _me_?"

"You're overreacting, Lisbon." Jane dismissed her, as he waved his hand in her direction. "If it makes you feel any better though, I'll buy you a horribly gaudy lamp that's shaped like a tree frog."

"It's not about the lamp!"

"Oh, you could have fooled me." Jane dryly answered. "In fact, you had me _so _fooled that I was actually going to whip out my cellphone, dial 1-800-Gad-Lamp just so I could find you another gaudy lamp."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Lisbon asked, crossly. "Hide it under the bed? Hide it like you hide _everything _else."

"Whoa!" Jane threw up his arms to protect himself from the wrath of an angry Lisbon. "If this is about the coffee I stole from you last month and then fed to the colony of hungry birds outside the CBI, I'm _sorry_! I didn't think you'd be this emotional over it…"

"Jane!" Lisbon hissed, and Jane glanced at her. "You…" She paused, before she narrowed her eyes. "Wait…_you _stole my coffee?"

"Uh…"

"… and you gave it to _birds_?"

"Would this be a good time to mention that apparently the birds really enjoyed your caffeine?" Jane questioned, with a slight nervous grin. "Though…you don't really need any of it, now do you?" Lisbon's eye twitched, which made Jane even more nervous. "I think I'll just run down to the closest store, and pick you up a few boxes of your favorite coffee…maybe, they'll even have bear claws…the sugar would do wonders for you." Lisbon's eye twitched again, and after a few minutes of silence, Jane chuckled. "So…I broke the lamp, huh?" Lisbon ignored him. "…are you going to ignore me for the rest of the night now?" Lisbon ignored him again. "I can take a hint, Lisbon, really I can—but isn't the cold shoulder a little _too _juvenile for the CBI Senior Agent, Teresa Lisbon?"

Lisbon sighed, as she moved to pinch the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "I don't even know _why _I'm arguing with you, especially because you remind me why I never went into teaching in the first place."

"It's one of my gifts, Lisbon." Jane repeated.

"Is one of your gifts to break things? Or annoy the hell out of me? Or annoy me so badly that I can't even _stand _you right now? Because if it is, you should definitely go to Vegas with that skill."

"I'd have to kidnap you, being my parole officer and all." Jane joked, and when Lisbon didn't laugh—he realized just _how _badly he had screwed this one over. "Lisbon, I…"

"Save it." Lisbon hissed. "I don't want to hear anymore apologies from you, as they mean absolutely nothing."

"I suppose it depends on how one would define nothing, because my definition of nothing is somewhat misconstrued." Lisbon narrowed her eyes. "Look, I'm not saying that I don't deserve being chewed out for the whole coffee-bird situation, but breaking the lamp was all on you…"

"Are you trying to make me say I hate you?"

"Nope." Jane told her, as he popped the 'p'. "I'm trying to make you say, "Oh, you're right Jane—it _was _my fault...I'll buy you a goat as my apology." but instead you keep saying, "Oh, Jane—this is your entire fault."—yet like I've been telling you for the past five minutes or so, the pillow came out of _your_ hands."

"I really hate you right now." Lisbon spat, and Jane grinned.

"So, you aren't going to say that you'll buy me that goat?" Lisbon ignored him. "I figured we could name it, and keep it as the official mascot of the SCU—but then, we'd need a motto something like: we will kick you, and your brother too."

"…"

"I thought it was awfully catchy too." Jane responded, and Lisbon moved off her bed only to stomp toward the bathroom, and slam the door behind her. What?" He called out. "Was it something that I said?"

**X.X.X.**

At nearly two in the morning, Lisbon had been awoken by the feeling that something _wasn't _quite right—especially as she rolled over to face Jane's bed to find that his bed was completely empty, and the blue covers littered the floor around his bed. She didn't want to call out to him, or even let him know how concerned she was over the fact that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, but at the sound of someone retching; Lisbon felt her own stomach roll.

Jane was merely ill.

She closed her eyes, and tried to fall back asleep—but after ten minutes of counting sheep, and listening to Jane within the bathroom, she couldn't help but move from under the covers, and move from the bed to find that the bathroom light was off, and Jane, with his chin rested on the toilet seat.

"I'm fine." Jane muttered, weakly and Lisbon raised her eyebrow.

"You don't _sound _fine." Lisbon told him.

"I'm really fine; no sickness is going to keep me from…" Whatever he was about to say was lost once more within the actions of his illness.

"How long have you been here, doing this?" Lisbon asked. "Do you need me to call a doctor?"

"No." Jane answered quickly. "I'll be fine; this is just a reaction to…"

"It doesn't like _just _a reaction, here—let me see." Lisbon moved over, and he lifted his head as she rested it against his forehead. "Hmmm. You're not cold, you're not even warm…I guess you're…" Jane slowly stood, and her hand fell from his forehead to his chest. "…what are you doing?"

"I feel much better!" Jane admitted, before he glanced down at her hand. "I don't think that's how you check a temperature, Lisbon…"

"I'm going back to bed." Lisbon muttered, and left him to finish whatever he had left to do in the bathroom as she curled back into the bed, and under the covers only to feel an immense need to throw-up overwhelm her nearly forty minutes later.

She ran to the bathroom, flipped on the light and emptied her stomach within the toilet.

_Damn it, Jane_.

She had known that being around a sick person (even if he claimed that he felt better right away) that the sickness could quickly spread—and thus another item was added to the long list of things that she would eventually kill him for.

"Lisbon?"

_Speak of the devil…_

"Jane, go away." Lisbon muttered, as she leaned into the toilet and he chuckled softly. "Just go."

"I think somebody is a _little _ill."

"You think?" She tried to be sarcastic, but all it sounded like was exhaustion before she emptied her stomach again. "I'd like to be ill in peace."

"No can do, Lisbon." Jane told her, as he sunk down onto the ledge of the white tub to watch her. "You felt my temperature, and I have to do the same to you."

"You're not touching me." Lisbon argued, but as always—Jane refused to listen, and his hand was on her forehead.

"Hmmm."

"What?" Lisbon asked him, and he grinned.

"You're as cool as a cucumber."

Lisbon groaned. "You've been tossing that around in your thick skull since you saw me leaning over the toilet, haven't you?"

"Maybe." Jane offered, with a smile before he glanced at her in concern. "Do you feel better?" She slowly nodded, and stood.

"I do." Jane glanced at his hand on her forehead, before he glanced at her and his mouth dropped slightly as she moved to cover up her mouth. "What? Do I have something on my mouth?"

"Besides vomit, no." Jane answered, and Lisbon grimaced behind her hand as the both of them stood within the brightly lit ocean-themed bathroom at nearly three in the morning. "I was just thinking about something…" Lisbon groaned again. "Are you about to be sick?"

"Yes." He frowned. "I'm about to be sick because you're thinking again."

"Play nice, Lisbon—I'm being serious here." Jane chided.

"Do you think you could remove your hand from my forehead then?" Lisbon asked, and Jane shook his head. "Why the hell not?"

"Something tells me we don't want to stop touching each other right now."

"…Is this _yet _another way of you trying to get into my bed?"

"If what I believe is going on, then yes." Jane answered. "I think we've been hypnotized…"

"No, _really_?" Lisbon asked. "I had wondered where those ten minutes of my life had gone."

Jane rolled his eyes. "No need to be so melodramatic, Lisbon."

"I just _want_ you to stop touching me."

"…and I want a goat, but that's not going to happen." Jane added. "I know you're still angry with me about earlier, but you _need _to listen to me right now; especially as I have a feeling that if I stop touching you, one of us is going to be bent back over that toilet in about thirty minutes with the impulse thought of throwing up."

"I'm going back to bed." Lisbon repeated, and stepped away from him to wipe off her mouth and hand before flushing the toilet and leaving the bathroom for the comfort of her own bed. Jane followed after her, and sat on his bed before he flipped on the light and she groaned. "Turn the light off, Jane."

"Lisbon, I'm being serious here—I believe we were hypnotized to…" She turned over in her bed, still under the covers and flipped his light off.

"Good night, Jane."

Jane didn't reply.

Nearly forty minutes later, after she had almost managed to fall asleep after counting at least 878 sheep—she heard the sound of _someone _(Jane) running to the bathroom, and once again, with a soft groan, she was in the bathroom with him as he leaned over the toilet and continued to puke his own guts out.

"You weren't joking, were you?" Lisbon asked, and he shook his head.

"I tried to tell you, I think our hypnotist at the bar tonight did this to us."

"You're trying to pin us being ill on a _hypnotist?_" Lisbon scoffed. "Did you ever think that perhaps we just ate something bad? I think what we…"

"Always the realist, aren't we Lisbon?" Jane weakly taunted, and Lisbon shook her head. "I've always been meaning to ask if you see the glass as half empty, or half full."

"Jane, now is _not _the time to being making jokes—I want you to tell me exactly what you think is happening to us."

"I told you, woman! Our bar hypnotist, hypnotized us into being ill without the other person's touch." Jane retorted. "Do you think I just make this stuff up to ruffle your feathers?" Lisbon wanted to tell him yes, but she ignored her snarky comment in favor of watching him try and not throw up again. "I need you to touch me."

"_What_?" Lisbon hissed.

"Just…put your hand on my forehead or something." Jane suggested.

"I'm not putting my hand on you! I'm not touching you just to prove that you're insane, Jane!"

"Lisbon!" Jane squeaked. "Do you really want a repeat of last years' Christmas party?" Lisbon decided against there being a repeat of _that _situation and rested her hand, amidst awkwardly, against his forehead to which he heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lisbon." He slowly stood, and Lisbon glanced at her hand which had fallen back to his chest. "I seriously doubt you have a magical touch, Lisbon—although, your touch is always magical to me." Lisbon paused to glance at him, and he glanced at her. "Oh dang, that came out wrong…I _meant _that your touch is very practical in the fact that it helped me _not _puke my guts out….so thank you." They were silent for a few moments, until Lisbon cleared her throat.

"So, you're saying that our bar hypnotist hypnotized us into getting ill without the other person's touch?" Jane nodded. "Oh. I uh…suppose you have no idea how to fix this?"

"Nope. No idea what-so-ever."

"Lovely." Lisbon remarked. "How do we fix this then?"

"Well, I _suppose _I could try and fix it—but without the trigger, it seriously would be like you and I playing Russian roulette."

"Whatever happened to the Marco Polo in the Atlantic Ocean expression?" Lisbon asked, and Jane shrugged.

"Meh, I've seen too _much _of the ocean—I just wanted to come up with something more…authentic, just so you would be more apt to appreciate the reference." Lisbon nodded, as if his comment even made the tiniest bit of logical sense. "Anyway, the only way we're going to be able to fix this is if we can find our hypnotist, threaten him with everything we've got and then get him to remove the hypnotic suggestion from us!" Lisbon stared at him. "What? It's not like I asked you to rob a bank with me."

"You…I'm just…"

"You're surprised that I, of all people, would offer the suggestion of you threatening our hypnotist fiend?" Lisbon nodded. "I just figured that Samuel Norse might not lift the trance quietly, especially as you kicked him where it hurts."

"I did _not!" _Lisbon hissed, and Jane smirked.

"Yes you did, but you don't remember that tidbit because you were _still _in the coma-like state." Lisbon frowned, but then she started to smirk and Jane chuckled. "See, you _did _get your comeuppance. Now, I don't know about you but I'm a _little _exhausted as I've spent all night practically in the bathroom."

"…if we'll get sick without touching each other, then that means we're going to have to…" Jane nodded. "No! I'm _not _going to sleep with you!"

"We don't exactly have a choice here, Lisbon." Jane told her. "Even you can see reason in that."

"I _refuse _to sleep with you."

"…are you afraid that I have cooties?" Jane tiredly teased, and Lisbon hit him with her spare hand. "Ouch! That was _my _arm, Lisbon. You know the one I write with and then _drive _with?"

"Stop whining already!" Lisbon muttered. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

"It's either we sleep in the tub, or we sleep in my bed." Lisbon hesitated, and Jane grinned. "Excellent!" He stepped away from her for a moment to take care of whatever he needed to take care of within the bathroom, before he held her elbow gently and dragged her to his bed, where he moved to the right side of the queen sized bed and settled beneath the blue cover as Lisbon kept her eyes on him. "I promise to be on my _best _behavior." Lisbon hesitated again, before she moved reluctantly to the left side of the bed and slipped under the cover. "See, that wasn't so hard…now, was it, Lisbon?" She felt his hand snake around her elbow, but other than that, he _was_ behaving and Lisbon couldn't find a reason to yell at him. "Hey, Lisbon?" Jane asked, after a few minutes of silence.

"Mmmmhmm."

"Do you think you could share some of the cover? I do believe you stole all of mine." Lisbon tiredly kicked out at him, even as he still held on her elbow. "Hey! I'm sharing my bed with you; the least _you _can do is either go get your own cover or share."

"Mmmmhmmmhmmm."

"Well, if you say so." Jane answered her, and Jane swiftly pushed her out of the bed, cover and all. "I do believe you have issues, Lisbon." She glanced up at him from the floor, to see that he had rested his head on her pillow as his eyes took in her dark form sprawled out on the floor. "So, can I have my cover now?"

"Bite me."

"Don't tempt me like that, Lisbon." Jane chided softly. "I might actually do _just _that to get the blanket from you." Lisbon glared at him. "I get cold easily, Lisbon! I need _my _cover—these pajamas do absolutely nothing for me!"

"Fine then, here." Lisbon had thrown the covers at him, as she slowly stood to rest back on Jane's bed.

"Here's your half of the cover…" He pushed half of the blue cover toward her. "…and here's mine." He tugged on his own half. "If I get any less than this half, I will bite you and it _will _hurt." Lisbon eyed him, and instead of saying anything he snaked his hand around her elbow again. "Goodnight, Lisbon!"

Instead of starting another argument with him, which quite possibly would have gotten her nowhere except probably back in the floor, with a bruise the size of California on her rear; she closed her eyes, and let herself drift back into the peaceful, dreamless state she had been in earlier with the slight help from Jane, who still had his hand placed on her elbow—in the morning, after only about three hours of sleep, Lisbon awoke to realize that she wasn't quite alone in the bed, because _somehow _the both of them had managed to drift toward the other person in their sleep. Jane's entire arm was snaked around her waist, as he held her tightly to his chest and she had managed to rest her head comfortably against the nape in his neck; she felt her cheeks heat with the knowledge that their legs had also managed to become involved in the risqué position, with only one of her legs pinned between one leg and the bed, and one of his legs had managed to be caught between the bed and one of her legs, as well.

"Jane." Lisbon called lightly, and when he didn't stir, she managed to maneuver her elbow into his abdomen, which set off a coughing fit. "Jane!"

"I'm up!" He coughed. "Where's the…" Jane paused, and she could feel him start to wiggle around. "Lisbon?"

"Yes?"

"Is that your leg between mine?"

"No." She told him. "I brought an octopus to bed…" Jane seemed squeamish at the very thought of bringing an octopus to bed. "Of course it's my leg! Why in the world would you think that I would bring an octopus, of all things, to bed?"

"Well, we _are _in an ocean-themed hotel." Jane offered. "And it's quite possible that one of the octopuses from the downstairs tank climbed three floors, and snuck in the bed while we were sleeping."

"If an octopus can do all _that_, then why haven't they taken over the world yet?" Lisbon asked, somewhat humored at Jane's imagination.

"Uhm…Lisbon?" Jane asked again, and Lisbon titled her head back slightly to stare at him. "Can I have my leg back…?"

She nodded, and she let him have his leg back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

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**Thank you **to **Yen88**, **Anna**, **Frogster**, **Jisbon4ever**, **VEEBS8**, **Bella Paige88**, **24Mentalistlover**, **watchyouwalk**, and **Biana Delacroix **for the absolutely amazing reviews.

* * *

**7—**

"There's no such thing as the perfect crime, Jane." Van Pelt snapped at Rigsby, while he continued to drive them to their supposed crime scene. "I'd be happier if you would stop telling people that you've seen the perfect crime."

"…I've been around a _lot _longer than you have." Rigsby answered. "So, yes; I've seen the "perfect crime"." Shelli and Autumn, who were sitting in the very back of the SUV perched up to listen to "Jane" speak. "It was a few years ago and…"

"…here we go again…" Van Pelt muttered, as she leaned her head against the car window to prepare herself for the exaggerated story, which Rigsby was probably making off the top of his head.

"…Jesse was pretending to be psychic; he had a silly suit on, a million dollar smile and the man could con anyone out of their hard earned cash." Van Pelt glanced at Rigsby, who seemed to be milking the fact that Jane or rather "Jesse" had once been a conman, tricking people out of their money as the "perfect crime". "He was never caught, and he could have kept going on and on if it weren't for the fact that Jesse taunted a serial killer on national television."

"Was that a smart idea?" Autumn asked, and Rigsby glanced at the mirror to see her staring straight at him, paying rapt attention to the story.

"What do you think?"

"I would think that "Jesse"," Shelli interrupted Autumn from answering. "…was a complete and utter fool to have gone on _national _television to taunt a serial killer."

"…and that was the perfect crime…" Rigsby finished.

"…how the heck is that a perfect crime?" Autumn asked, after a few moments of silence. "The guy got punished!"

"And Jessie _still _manages to get hate mail from people who wish to do him harm _after_ they found out he wasn't exactly psychic." Van Pelt added. "It's not a perfect crime; he just wants people to feel sorry for his _friend_, Jesse."

"It _could _be considered the perfect crime."

"No," Autumn argued. "We've written an article in the past on the perfect crime, and unfortunately, being a psychic isn't the perfect crime."

"Oh, so dare tell me—my reporter friends, what is the perfect crime?" Shelli and Autumn shared a glance before answering together.

"Identity theft."

"Who do you poll for that article?" Rigsby asked, and Shelli raised her eyebrow as she crossed her arms against her chest.

"We're from the _top _crime magazine in the world—we go all over the world and tour different police branches, and we ask the questions that nobody else seems to want to ask." Shelli answered. "I've asked _many _law enforcement officials, what the "perfect crime" is and they've all replied the same thing, identity theft."

"You haven't asked Agent Lisbon." Rigsby continued on, and Autumn scoffed.

"We wrote the article two months ago, before we had even planned on coming down to interview Agent Lisbon."

"So, you didn't ask _all _law enforcement officials." Rigsby told her. "I have a feeling some would say that Jesse committed the perfect crime."

"Jesse was an idiot, Jane." Van Pelt uttered.

"Yeah, perhaps he was." Rigsby agreed.

"Was?" Shelli asked.

"Oh," Van Pelt interceded. "Jesse now works in public relations, and he _hates _his new job—apparently, he's not allowed to mess with the customers."

"Justice was served." Autumn declared. "Is it a good idea though to let him work in a people-oriented job?"

"Well, what more can he do?" Autumn seemed somewhat satisfied with that answer, but Shelli glanced at Rigsby and Van Pelt as if something just _wasn't _adding up. Van Pelt bit her lip, and everyone else remained quiet for the rest of the ride until Rigsby pulled up behind Cho's vehicle, and stepped outside of the SUV to head toward the "crime scene". Van Pelt strolled up behind him, and the reporters straggled behind to get their equipment. "One of them is going to figure this out soon—and then Hightower is going to find out, and then we'll _all _be on suspension…I can't be on suspension!"

"Calm down, Grace." Rigsby muttered. "If they knew, they would have busted us already."

"We should have _never _accepted this idea!" Van Pelt panicked. "Lisbon is going to hang us all." Rigsby wanted to throw out a bitter and sarcastic laugh, due to the fact that immediately _after _they both had started dating Van Pelt had practically thrown all of the rules out the window; especially the _most _significant one about dating co-workers, but once they had come clean to Lisbon about their candid affair, she had only given them the "see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil" lecture in terms of their relationship, but then Hightower came along and had somehow found out though she had only been in Minelli's vacant position for about a week or so; Van Pelt, all of a sudden, became _extremely _focused on the rules. Rigsby remained quiet, and allowed her to continue panicking until they joined Cho at the "crime scene". Cho merely glanced at Van Pelt, who seemed to be in her own little world and Rigsby, who caught onto her distracted state, nudged her in the arm. "Wh…Oh, crime scene…"

To be exact, it was the _fakest _crime scene anyone on the Serious Crimes Unit had seen—and they had even been through the academy, where simulations were a must; Virginia's light blue vehicle and broken window were real enough, but the "blood" trail and the drag marks were a _little _to convenient as they lead, from the eyes point of view, straight to the woods.

"Is this the crime scene?" Autumn asked, and Van Pelt nodded. "It…" Autumn paused to glance around. "Where are all the cops? The sirens? The dogs?"

"Low key scene, nothing fancy." Cho stated.

"You're telling the both of us, that the California Bureau of Investigation is _poor_?" Shelli scoffed. "I highly doubt that, considering the amount of tax donations that go into the CBI every year."

"It's the lack of recognition; residents of California still believe that the CBI sells vacuum cleaners door to door." Shelli stuck one of her hands into her black blazer and pulled out a tape recorder. "For what it's worth, the CBI doesn't sell vacuum cleaners…"

"Nope." Rigsby agreed with Van Pelt. "We just clean up criminals, and put them behind bars." Both reporters nodded, and stood back to watch the three SCU members investigate the crime scene.

"Taylor was taken—dragged from her car." Van Pelt pointed out, as her eyes zoomed in on the simple crime scene. "The window was broken, I would say she was drugged but I have no idea with what." Van Pelt turned to survey Rigsby, who also had his eyes trained on the crime scene. "Second opinion?"

"…that our victim better have car insurance?" Rigsby implored, with a small smirk. "I wonder if she's with GEICO or Progressive…"

"Jane! Focus." Van Pelt told him.

"Blood splatter." Cho pointed out the blood-looking substance, which had splattered on the inside roof of her vehicle, with his finger. "Either our victim was hit or..."

"She took a hit at her attacker." Van Pelt interrupted, before she glanced down at the blood droplets on the crumbled road. "What the heck would she be doing out here anyway—it's the middle of nowhere." Rigsby shrugged, before he tugged his suit back down. "So, who wants to follow the blood trail?"

Autumn stepped forward, but Shelli stopped her.

"I don't think Agent Lisbon is asking you, Autumn."

"I know, I just wanted to take pictures of the…uh…crime scene."

Van Pelt glanced at the reporters. "Take your pictures, but please stay here." Both nodded, and Van Pelt started into the woods, with Cho and Rigsby following behind her. "_Car insurance_, huh_?_" Van Pelt questioned Rigsby, once they were far enough into the woods to avoid behind overheard by the reporters.

"I didn't know what else to say!" Rigsby defended. "Being Jane is _much _harder than it looks, and this outfit is about to drive me insane." He pulled on it to further prove being driven insane.

"I'd say you're already there. With or without the outfit" Cho clarified, after a second glance at Rigsby.

"Haha, lets all laugh at Rigsby." Rigsby mocked, and Van Pelt chuckled in response.

"I'm sorry, Rigsby." Van Pelt spoke. "I just think that the three-piece suit _isn't _you."

"…isn't the whole point of this…_thing_…to look more like Jane, and less like me?" Van Pelt nodded reluctantly. "I think I've done a good job of that so far."

"So, where exactly are we going?" Van Pelt paused to glance around in the sun-blotted woods. "We can't walk around all day." Cho started to step in front of Van Pelt, and she stared at him. "Where are you going?"

"To the cabin."

"_Cabin_?" Van Pelt and Rigsby questioned, as they glanced around the woods.

"Man, I hate to burst your bubble—but uh…we're in the middle of nowhere."

"No, we aren't."

"Yes, we are." Rigsby argued. "If there was a cabin, I think the both of us would have seen it…" Van Pelt nodded in agreement.

"If the world ended right now, you wouldn't see it." Cho explained. "Too busy flirting."

"What?" Van Pelt and Rigsby sputtered, before they glanced at each other and then glanced at the ground.

"Flirting." Cho restated, as he continued toward the "cabin" without even glancing back to see if Rigsby and Van Pelt were following behind him.

"I'm being serious though, there isn't a…" Rigsby paused. "…cabin?"

"There's actually a cabin in the middle of nowhere?" Van Pelt asked in amazement, as she stopped behind Cho to admire what seemed like an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. "…and you don't find this a little strange?" Cho glanced at her. "I mean, well…there's a cabin in the middle of _nowhere_."

"The middle of nowhere is in Kansas." Cho remarked, as he stepped toward the seemingly abandoned cabin and slowly removed his weapon from its holder. Van Pelt glanced toward Rigsby for a second, before she reluctantly pulled out her weapon and followed behind, leaving Rigsby to awkwardly stand behind a tree (as he didn't exactly have his gun, because the three-piece suit ensemble didn't exactly leave any room for weapons). Cho stepped up to the cabin door, and knocked. "CBI! Open up!" The door flew open, and before either Cho or Van Pelt could say anything, the door slammed shut. Van Pelt moved her hand to knock on the door again, when a voice from the other side of the door was heard.

"Password?"

"But, you just opened the door!" Van Pelt argued.

"Uhm…no, I didn't. Password." Van Pelt opened her mouth again, when Cho shook his head.

"Jane sent us here." Cho told whoever was beyond the door, and after much arguing from behind the closed door, the door opened to reveal two disgruntled employees from the CBI, whom Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby had seen around the work place often enough.

"That wasn't the password, Agent Cho." The first employee stated. "We're going to have to kill you all now." Van Pelt moved to aim her gun at the first employee, when the second employee hit the first employee.

"Lower your gun, Van Pelt." Cho ordered, and Van Pelt reluctantly lowered her gun before Cho focused back on the two disgruntled employees. "How much is he paying you for this?"

"He's not really paying us anything—I owe him for getting my wife and me out of a tough situation a few months back." The second employee shrugged. "Jane asked me to help him out with this, and I couldn't refuse."

"And him?" Van Pelt asked, as she pointed her finger toward the first employee.

"…I'm just here for the food…"

"Did he tell you he was in jail?" Cho asked, and the first employee scratched his head.

"Jane told us some story about how he tried to sleep on the sacred couch…"

"We obviously didn't believe him." The second employee finished. "There's no such thing as a _sacred _couch…"

"You must never have tried to sleep on Jane's couch then." Rigsby snickered, as he joined Cho and Van Pelt into the conversation.

"Oh no, we're pretty much determined to stay away from the SCU at all times—there are _plenty _of horror stories about your unit, most of them involving Jane."

"One doesn't happen to involve kidnapping interns does it?" Cho asked, and the first employee hesitantly nodded. "We need her."

"I don't think I can do that." The first employee explained, with a shake of his head. "You see, we're in charge of her safekeeping until _after _the password is spoken." Cho glanced at the second employee, who nodded in agreement.

"We were given _strict _instructions not to give her to you, until you had spoken the password." Cho sighed. "So, the password?"

"Did he even _give _you a password?" Rigsby questioned, and Cho nodded. "So, you knew…?"

"The password—yes, the entire plan—no." Cho explained, before he turned toward the second employee. "The password is "Goats eat clothes, clothes travel fast and then they catch on fire"."

The second employee nodded, and swiftly moved aside to allow the three SCU agents into the cabin; the first employee, then led them past the sparse living room, and the bathroom (which seemed to be decorated in all jungle style) before he stopped at a single door. He held a single finger up to his lips, and he narrowed his eyes before he threw open the door.

"Virginia!" The first employee barked, and Virginia stared at her "kidnapper" as she sat on the small bed, relatively unharmed. "I've come to let you go!" Virginia hopped off from the bed, and ran toward the doorway as her "kidnapper" moved aside to let her see that the members of the SCU had saved her.

"Are you alright?" Van Pelt questioned, and Virginia nodded.

"I think so, ma'am."

"Good. We can leave then."

Virginia peered at her in surprise. "Aren't you going to arrest my kidnappers?"

"They aren't going to get very far." Cho answered her. "They're surrounded." Virginia seemed to accept the given answer, as she nodded before she followed the agents from the cabin, into the dimly lit woods and back to the "crime scene" where Shelli and Autumn still had their cameras out and were clicking away at the party of four. Virginia didn't ask any questions, and Rigsby guessed it was because she knew _exactly _why they had their cameras out—instead, the blonde haired intern turned toward her car and let out an impressive string of curses due to her smashed car window.

"I bet she doesn't have good car insurance." Rigsby snidely commented, with a chuckle as he grinned until he noticed that both Van Pelt and Cho were staring at him, with serious expressions on their faces.

"Not helping." Van Pelt responded.

"I could offer her some premium rate car insurance…"

"Still not helping!"

Autumn and Shelli, who had finally put down their cameras, wandered over to the group of three to start a conversation when Van Pelt suggested that they take their conversation back to headquarters.

**X.X.X.**

"Okay, I'm assuming that the both of you _have _done interviews before—yes?" Shelli asked, before she glanced down at her black leather notepad. "I have questions I'll ask you both together, and then I have questions that I'll ask you both separately. Understand?" Van Pelt and Rigsby nodded, to which Shelli flashed them her wide smile. "Excellent! Shall we begin?" Both nodded again, and Shelli cleared her throat. "First question, how long have the both of you been in your line of work?"

"About two years and a half." Rigsby offered.

"Nineteen years." Van Pelt guessed, and Shelli nodded while the tape recorder sat on the silver table between the three of them, as she continued to interview them. Rigsby tugged on the top of his three-piece suit once more and Shelli glanced at him, curiously.

"Can I ask a question…off the record, Mr. Jane?" Rigsby nodded, as she reached forward and stopped the recorder. "Is it getting hot in here for you? Do you need a drink? You've been tugging on your top for the past five minutes, and I'm a little concerned that you may pass out while we're conducting the interview."

"I'm fine."

"Actually," Van Pelt interceded, and Rigsby glanced over at her. "I think he _is _looking a little ill…I think I'll go get him something to drink." Van Pelt stood from her chair, and had already left the room before Rigsby even had a chance to tell her what he wanted to drink. Shelli continued to stare at him, her fingers laced across the silver table as if she were expecting him to say something and after a few minutes, when neither said anything, she opened her mouth.

"Agent Lisbon didn't ask what you wanted to drink…I'm curious as to why…I mean, Agent Lisbon seems like the type of woman who would ask." Rigsby snorted, Van Pelt _would _be the type of woman to ask but Lisbon wasn't. "Why is that so funny?"

"Oh, no reason." Rigsby answered, covering up his laughter with a cough. "I'm just not used to hearing other women say that Lisbon would ask, she's usually a take-charge kind of gal." Actually, Rigsby mentally corrected, she was more of a woman who would tackle first and then ask questions later.

Van Pelt stepped back into the room, a steaming hot cup of tea in her hands and Rigsby tried to resist making a face; tea looked like muddy pond water, and it tasted like someone had dropped a dash of _something _into boiling water. Rigsby glanced up at Van Pelt as she sat it down in front of him and Shelli raised her eyebrow.

"It's hot outside, and you're bringing him _tea_?" Shelli asked and Van Pelt nodded.

"He rarely drinks anything else, and he throws a fit about coffee—isn't that right, Jane?" Rigsby seemed so caught up in the fact that he actually had to _drink _the tea that he forgot that he was playing Jane for a second.

"I can't even stand…" He paused, as Van Pelt's elbow slammed into his abdomen. "Ouch!"

"Sorry." She added, apologetically.

"You can't stand what?" Shelli asked, as Autumn slipped into the interrogation room with her own camera, which was secured around her neck, to continue taking pictures.

"Coffee. Horrible tasting stuff—makes you bitter and angry." Van Pelt raised her eyebrow in his direction. "Not that you're bitter or angry, Lisbon…I'm just simply stating that…" Van Pelt crossed her arms against her chest, and the two reporters stifled a laugh. "...never mind…I…"

Whatever he had been about to say was lost in the middle of the loud yelling from the hallway.

_ "Are you trying to get us all FIRED?" _Van Pelt paled, and Rigsby groaned silently as Shelli and Autumn glanced out the blind-drawn window to see whatever commotion was going on. _"We've only been back in the country for twenty minutes, and you're ALREADY causing problems?" _

"Someone sounds like they're getting a dressing down out there." Autumn commented. "Do you know who it is?"

"Nope, no idea. None what-so-ever." Rigsby quickly stated, and Van Pelt eagerly nodded.

_"No, Jane! I'm not fine!" _Autumn and Shelli glanced at Rigsby in confusion, as the voices grew closer to the interrogation room. _"I swear, if I find out that you've gone and somehow managed to kill someone while we've been gone—I'm going to…" _Lisbon had opened the interrogation door to find Van Pelt, Rigsby, Shelli and Autumn all glancing at her (two expressions of surprise, and two of total anxiety). "…JANE!"

Jane stuck his head into the room, "I'm sorry—she's insane. Doesn't know what she's talking about. This shouldn't happen ever again." Jane grabbed ahold of Lisbon's arm and tried to drag her from the room. "Come along dear, we shouldn't bother the lovely ladies and gentleman more than we already have." Lisbon lifted her foot, and stomped on Jane's foot ("Ouch!") before she turned back to Rigsby and Van Pelt, who were trying to sink into their chairs.

"I'm not even _going _to ask what the both of you are doing…because quite frankly, I'm afraid to know." Lisbon then turned toward the reporters, who seemed to be even more confused at the entire exchange. "…and who the hell are you both?"

"Reporters, ma'am." Shelli replied, somewhat phased by the woman in front of her. "We've been interviewing Agent Lisbon and Mr. Jane…" A dark look crossed Lisbon's face, and Rigsby gulped.

"That can't be possible." Lisbon exclaimed, and both reporters glanced up at her in curiosity.

"Why, ma'am?" Autumn questioned, and Lisbon glared at Jane before she answered.

"It's because _I'm _Agent Lisbon and the man beside me…" Lisbon jerked her thumb toward Jane. "…is Mr. Jane."

"She's crazy I tell you, absolutely mad." Jane repeated, and Lisbon glanced at him again.

"I'll show you _just _how mad I'm going to be, after this." She raised her foot and stomped on his again. ("Ouch!").


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Switching Red

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **Noooo.

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**Thank you **to **13 Jo**, **VEEBS8**, **Bella Paige88**, **Yen88**, **Jisbon4ever**, **24Mentalistlover**, **Frogster **and, **watchyouwalk **for the amazing reviews. I would also like to take the time and thank everyone for reading.

Anyway, this is the last chapter of Switching Red—but just as an aside, over the last few months of writing this, I've learned that Jane has insane plans that one should not willingly follow…especially if they work at the CBI.

Enjoy!

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**Epilogue—**

Hightower glanced over the motely crew that she had assembled in her office; of everything she needed or wanted to do upon returning from vacation, having the _entire _SCU in her office at one time was not one of those things.

Rigsby and Van Pelt sat together on one couch, while Cho and Virginia took over another couch and finally, Lisbon and Jane remained in the two green armchairs in front of her desk—before she could even speak, Jane had swiftly raised his hand.

"What?"

"Firstly, I want to say just _how _refreshed you look back from your vacation—Costa Rica, perhaps?" Jane asked, and Hightower narrowed her eyes in response. "Secondly, I want to confess Madeleine, that I was the coffee bandit."

"I knew it!" Van Pelt hissed from her place on the couch, but with a solid glare from Lisbon, she quieted.

"Do _not _call me that, Mr. Jane."

"What would you prefer me to call you then? Professor Hightower? Madame Hightower? Agent Hightower? Doctor Hightower? Mistress Hightower? Or my personal favorite, mother?" Hightower merely glanced at him in displease, as Lisbon elbowed him. "I think I have a bruise there now, on top of the broken foot I received a week ago!" Jane waggled his foot, which was indeed in a blue boot.

"You're not getting any sympathy votes from me at the moment, Mr. Jane." Hightower snapped. "You will call me Agent Hightower or Ma'am; anything else and I _will_ have you suspended—if you aren't _already _going to be suspended for this latest stunt." Hightower picked something off her desk and held it out to everyone. "Do you all know what this is?"

"…summons for jury duty?" Jane questioned.

"…a bill?" Van Pelt guessed.

"The magazine." Lisbon said, softly and Hightower nodded as she slammed it down on her cluttered desk.

"Do you know why I have it _way _before it's supposed to be published?" Everyone remained quiet. "It's because I wanted to see what you all had to say about each other, and your unit—but to my surprise, the article consisted of how "Jane" and "Lisbon" were really being played by two other agents who had thought stealing identities would be a good thing." Hightower pursed her lips. "We _already _have enough problems with the reputation of this building, and the both of you…" Hightower stared straight at Van Pelt and Rigsby. "…should never have followed Jane's _absolutely _idiotic plan!"

"It's wasn't absolutely idiotic!" Jane defended his plan.

Hightower ignored him. "What persuaded the both of you anyway to follow his instructions?"

"He had blackmail on us, ma'am." Rigsby admitted, and Hightower glanced at Jane.

"Did you, Mr. Jane?" Jane lifted the jacket to his three-piece suit and lifted an envelope out of his jacket. He then turned slightly in his chair to hand the envelope to Rigsby, who gleefully grabbed it and ripped it open to find a single note.

**I had absolutely nothing on you. Ha! **

**;)**

Rigsby merely stood from his seat and passed the note to Hightower, who merely glanced down at Jane, who was trying a little too hard to act innocent.

"The both of you are dismissed," Hightower waved toward Rigsby and Van Pelt. "I won't be taking any further actions, as I feel that Jane's idiotic plan did more harm than good to you both." Both nodded, and left the office before Hightower turned back to the remaining four members within her office; she glanced at Jane and Lisbon, before she turned her eyes back on Cho and Virginia. "Agent Cho, you _also _went along with Jane's plan…did you have any particular reason for that?"

Cho nodded, "If I didn't do this, Lisbon would be in trouble."

Hightower glanced back down at Jane. "Now, I'm starting to see why Minelli suggested that we buy you a muzzle."

"It's a love muzzle, I assure you." Jane beamed.

"Anyway," she stated, as she turned back to glance at Cho. "I'm also going to dismiss you, without taking any further actions as well." Cho nodded, and he left Virginia alone on the couch, to which Hightower then turned her calm fury on the intern. "Ms. Tylor, I'm assuming you had no idea about this plan?"

"None what-so-ever, ma'am." Virginia reassured her. "I was told that Agent Van Pelt was Agent Lisbon, and Agent Rigsby was Consultant Jane." Hightower nodded.

"I also understand that you were kidnapped, and had your car window broken?" Virginia nodded. "Mr. Jane will be paying to have it fixed, and he will also pay for any therapy needed in lieu of the "kidnapping"." Virginia nodded. "You're also dismissed." Virginia nodded, and left the room.

Finally, it was just three.

"I don't even know _where _to begin with the both of you!" Hightower exclaimed. "I suppose I could start with Jane's idiotic plan, but then again, we'd never leave the room, especially with as much as I have to say about it…or I could start with the fact that you, Lisbon couldn't keep a better control on your consultant, but alas that would also open another can of worms that I refuse to open at this very moment in time." Lisbon nodded, as Jane continued to grin. "However, I will start with the fact that I've already recommended in Jane's personal file that he _never _be given another vacation ever." Lisbon silently groaned, and Jane beamed. "In fact, the next time something traumatic happens to him—I'm sending him to the department psychologist, who would be _more _than ready to handle him…" Jane lost his grin, and pulled a grimace. "…and he's being billed for _every _session, whether he goes or not."

"This billing will come straight from my insurance right?" Jane asked, and Hightower blinked.

"You don't _have _insurance with us, Mr. Jane. So it'll come straight from your paycheck." Jane shrugged.

"Meh. I didn't need the money anyway." Hightower scowled. "Don't look so offended, Madeleine. I only took this job so I could have something to do…the money isn't of any concern to me."

"I will _also _be seeing that we personally provide a muzzle and child leash for Mr. Jane." Hightower continued, as she glanced at Lisbon. "As for you, Agent Lisbon—I thought about suspending you, but I've realized that Mr. Jane would just find _some _crazy way to get you back to work probably involving another box, and a goat; so the most logical punishment would be nothing as Jane _is _the worst punishment possible." Lisbon seemed to accept that answer with a nod, and Hightower turned back to Jane, who was offended that Hightower had called him a "punishment". "As for you, I _would _also suspend you but because you would somehow manage to sneak back _into _the CBI, I'm putting you on work arrest." Jane opened his mouth. "Work arrest means for exactly _three _days, you're not allowed to go to any crime scenes but instead, you have to remain on in the bullpen the entire time." Jane opened his mouth again, but Hightower interrupted him. "I also want to know why the both of you weren't able to return home on time."

Lisbon replied, "Ma'am, it's a long story."

"I don't have the time at the moment to listen to it." Hightower informed her. "So, the both of you will _write _me a report and tell me exactly why you couldn't make it back in time for the interview. You're both dismissed." Jane and Lisbon stood from their chairs, and left Hightower's office.

**X.X.X.**

Rigsby and Van Pelt sat down at their desks upon Lisbon and Jane's reentry back into the bullpen, where the both of them shifted to sit down on Jane's couch.

"What'd she do?" Cho inquired, and Lisbon glanced at him.

"Good news, neither of us is suspended." Jane told the SCU, plus intern, who was hard at work filing paperwork. "Bad news, I'm never allowed to take another vacation. Ever." Everyone groaned.

"He's also on work arrest." Lisbon commented.

"I suppose we'll all laugh about this later." Van Pelt offered helpfully, and Lisbon turned toward her to raise her eyebrow. "Or not."

"Did you learn anything from this entire experience?" Lisbon addressed her younger employees, and both nodded.

"Being Senior Agent isn't easy, and Rigsby really dislikes tea." Van Pelt answered; Lisbon seemed quite pleased with that answer and turned toward Rigsby, who cleared his throat before he answered.

"Three-piece suits are uncomfortable, and the shape on the ceiling looks _exactly _like Elvis." Lisbon stared at him, until he nodded. "But, I think I've learned that anytime Jane approaches me with a plan, that I should check and see if the blackmail is authentic first…" Van Pelt nodded in agreement, and Lisbon turned toward her intern.

"Ms. Tylor?" Lisbon asked, and Virginia glanced up from Jane's unused to desk in question. "Have you learned anything from this experience?"

"…that I shouldn't take directions from people who I don't know?" Virginia gave, and Lisbon nodded.

"Agent Lisbon?" Jane asked, playing along and Lisbon groaned.

"What?"

"What did you learn from this adventure?"

"To never go on vacation with you again."

Rigsby and Van Pelt chuckled, while Cho smirked.

"That reminds me, boss." Van Pelt interceded. "Why were you and Jane _really _on vacation for the extra days? Did he really get arrested?"

"It's a long story, Van Pelt." Lisbon informed her. "…and it's something that I would rather we never discuss, ever again."

"Why? It's not like the both of you had to sleep together or…" Rigsby paused at the looks on their faces. "You…?"

"We didn't exactly have a choice." Lisbon answered, and Rigsby chuckled.

"You don't need to explain to us that you slept with him, boss." Van Pelt said.

"Yeah, Lisbon—in fact, we would rather _not _hear all the intimate details about your relationship." He teased, and Lisbon glared.

"Don't forget," Lisbon barked, as she stood from the couch. "You both are still in trouble with _me_." She turned on her heel, and headed toward her office.

"Is it _really _that long of a story?" Van Pelt asked, and Jane grinned.

"My lips are sealed; my fingers however, are not." Jane made a typing notion with his fingers, before he stood from his couch and followed the senior agent into her office, leaving the three agents to stare at the spot that the two had once occupied in confusion.

**X.X.X.**

**To: **Hightower, Madeleine

**From: **Jane, Patrick

**Subject: **What I did over my summer vacation. :)

**Date: **June 11, 2010. 5:33 AM

Madeleine,

Over my summer vacation, I was abducted by alien-tree frogs.

You see, we _did _get off the airplane at the airport and we did end up at the hotel…but as we arrived at the hotel; Lisbon and I were kidnapped by the six feet, five inch alien-tree frogs and taken to their planet, Frogtania, where they tried to hypnotize us into taking over the human race.

The ruler of the planet, a Lord Frog-Legs managed to hypnotize me into becoming his right hand man-frog while Lisbon had to spend an entire week as a frog-maid to the Lord Frog and myself. Eventually, we managed to escape the Lord Frog's power—bringing down the entire alien-tree frog race as we sped away on these giant redwood trees back to good ole Sacramento, California.

**Jane**

**

* * *

**

**To: **Jane, Patrick

**From: **Hightower, Madeleine

**Subject: **Re: What I did over my summer vacation. :)

**Date: **June 14, 2010. 6:33 AM

Mr. Jane,

You were abducted by aliens?

Do you seriously expect me to believe that you and Agent Lisbon were late from returning on vacation because you had to save the world from alien-tree frogs?

**Madeleine Hightower**

_Special Agent, CBI_

_

* * *

_

**To: **Hightower, Madeleine

**From: **Jane, Patrick

**Subject: **Re: Re: What I did over my summer vacation. :)

**Date: **June 14, 2010. 6:55 AM

Yes

**Jane**

**

* * *

**

**To: **Jane, Patrick

**From: **Hightower, Madeleine

**Subject: **Re: Re: Re: What I did over my summer vacation. :)

**Date: **June 14, 2010. 9:35 AM

Mr. Jane,

I'm referring you to the department psychologist, as I fear that you're quickly approaching a psychotic break.

Hopefully, she'll be able to tell me why you were late.

**Madeleine Hightower**

_Special Agent, CBI_

_

* * *

_

**To: **Hightower, Madeleine

**From: **Murphy, Danille

**Subject: **Patrick Jane

**Date: **June 15, 2010. 5:16 PM

Agent Hightower,

Mr. Jane is _not _suffering a psychotic break; we managed to do several Rorschach tests, in which he proved to be a fine individual. I would also like to add that I _did _ask Mr. Jane about his vacation, and he told me the exact same thing he sent to you in an email. If anything, it really is a possibility that Agent Lisbon and he were kidnapped by alien-tree frogs.

Have a good day,

**Dr. Danille Murphy**

_CBI Psychologist _

**X.X.X.**

**To: **Hightower, Madeleine

**From: **Lisbon, Teresa

**Subject: **Vacation Report

**Date: **June 11th, 2010. 10:18 AM

Ma'am—

I know this is going to sound completely insane, but I completely assure you this is what happened:

Jane and I managed to get hypnotized by the world famous hypnotist Samuel Norse. The both of us spent the entire week, up until the following Wednesday morning searching for him because every time that we weren't touching each other, we would become violently ill. In order to break the suggestion, we had to find Samuel and have him un-hypnotize us.

He didn't break the suggestion at all; we did.

Samuel stated that what would break our suggestion would be a strong surge of emotions—and we did what anyone who was hypnotized into being violently ill without the other person's touch would do.

We kissed.

**Teresa Lisbon**

_Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit, CBI_

_

* * *

_

**To: **Lisbon, Teresa

**From: **Hightower, Madeleine

**Subject:** Re: Vacation Report

**Date: **June 11, 2010. 4:23 PM

Agent Lisbon,

I have no idea what you and Mr. Jane are up too, but I'm afraid the both of you are up to telling me tall tales. I've heard from Mr. Jane that you were abducted by alien-tree frogs, and it seems that the _only _thing that lines up in both of your vacation reports is the fact that you were both hypnotized.

I _will _find out the truth, mark my words.

**Madeleine Hightower**

_Special Agent, CBI_

**X.X.X.**

"You told her we were abducted by _alien-tree frogs_?" Lisbon scolded Jane, as he rested his head and body on her red couch. "Why would you _even _tell her that?" Jane glanced over at her, as she continued to straighten her desk.

"Lisbon, she would have _never _believed our "I got hypnotized in a hotel bar" story." Jane explained, before he grinned. "Quite frankly, I still don't believe that our _entire _fight was because we were _hypnotized _to have it."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, "…and this is coming from the man who hypnotized Rigsby into kissing Van Pelt."

"I didn't _know _he was going to kiss her, Lisbon…"

"Sure you didn't." Lisbon interrupted, crossly. "I find it nearly impossible to believe that you, Mr. 'I can read people merely by their expressions' didn't _see _that one coming."

"It's practically impossible to read a hypnotized victim!" Jane sighed. "I've tried, but it's like reading a _very _blank mirror."

"…so essentially, you're reading a vampire?" Lisbon questioned, and Jane hummed.

"I don't know, I've never _read _a vampire before." Jane answered. "…Lisbon, do you…?"

"No."

Jane pouted. "I didn't even finish asking my question!"

"Let me guess, your question had something to do with me dressing up as a vampire?"

"Maybe."

"Liar." Lisbon called him out, and he snickered.

"So, maybe I am—but I'm a liar who probably saved the both of us from years of ridicule at CBI Christmas parties to come." Jane paused, before he sat up on the couch and glanced at her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If it's about vampires, no."

"It's not." Jane told her, slyly before he slowly stood from Lisbon's red couch to glance over and down at her. "I just wanted to know if you were still feeling a bit ill." Lisbon paused in her furious reorganizing to glance up at him.

"I'm not…"

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, as he slowly closed the small distance between them. "Because you look a little under the weather, and I'm wondering if we were able to clear the illness with just _two _kisses…as two seems to be such an insignificant…"

The rest of his words were buried by the fact that her lips met his.


End file.
